


The Tomato Princeling

by postmodern_robot



Series: The Beautiful Game [1]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers, Latin Hetalia - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Football, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-03
Updated: 2014-12-07
Packaged: 2018-02-03 06:32:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 31,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1734587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/postmodern_robot/pseuds/postmodern_robot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Football!AU - The son of a footballer and painter, Lovino Romano Vargas was suddenly taken by his mother at the age of five and spirited away to Spain.  After 4 years of hiding, the 9 year old Lovino picks the lock that keeps him trapped in their apartment and sneaks out to find a place to run again.   By luck, he is adopted by a group of football-loving teenagers who play in an abandoned field.  With the help of an overly cheerful Spanish teenager and his rather international group of friends, Lovino discovers freedom through the Beautiful Game.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The Beautiful Game - Also called football and soccer, doesn't need to be played in a stadium. It can be played anywhere with a ball, room to run and good friends to escape with into a game together. It's played with love in every country in the world.

_Madrid, Spain_

_May 21, 2013_

 

A sweet but determined soprano voice interrupted his dreams, the same as every morning.  Lovino Romano Vargas rolled over and groaned as his mother sang her usual partisan song like some ridiculous alarm clock while she baked breakfast.

 _“Una mattina mi son svegliato_  
o bella ciao, bella ciao, bella ciao, ciao, ciao,  
una mattina mi son svegliato  
e ho trovato l'invasor”

‘What’s her obsession with that song anyway!?’ Lovino wondered. He was a grumpy little nine-year-old even on a regular day, but this morning he had been having a good dream so his mood upon being woken was even worse.  The dream had warmed his little heart and tugged at something familiar that his mind had repressed for the past four years. 

Four years ago his mother had picked him up from school as she always did in her little Fiat.  When he climbed into the car she was smiling as usual but as she sped off he realized that she was bleeding, bruised and scratched all over.  Despite being terrified, Lovino had the sense to rummage for the standard first aid kit kept in the car but discovered that he had no idea what to do with it. What good was a small cold pack when she was bruised everywhere? Or bandages for her hands when she refused to pull over and release the steering wheel?  In tears, Lovino begged his Mama to stop the car at a hospital, but she didn’t listen. For hours she smiled, sang songs, spoke about food and completely ignored him in a terribly misguided attempt to comfort him about her health and state of mind. That was the beginning of this new life and what he usually dreamed about.

As far back as Lovino could remember, his dreams had been plagued by worries and nightmares about his mother.  In one dream she disappeared and never came home, leaving him locked up and alone. In another she had died with that falsely happy smile stuck on her face.  Often she was running away from some shadowy figure and he would kick and snarl at it but his efforts were ultimately helpless.  He also dreamed of that first car ride when she took him away, driving all the way from their hometown of Rome to Naples, before going on the run again. They finally stopped in Madrid and Lovino did not know why.  All he knew what that this tiny, run-down studio on the city’s outskirts had been their home for the past four years. 

Last night though, he had dreamed of a big green field surrounded by empty seats. A jovial dark-haired man was teaching him footwork with a proper football.  Lovino knew the ball was the real thing, the sleek, smooth kind used for competitions, not the playground version with black and white hexagons. Lovino was learning how to dribble, pass and generally just ran around on the field, laughing. When Lovino got bored or tired, the man would stop and dazzle him with trick moves, bouncing the ball on his head, or on a single foot, or running around with a smile, keeping Lovino mesmerized. The man wore a blue jersey, which Lovino somehow knew was the _Azzuro –_ the uniform of the Italian national team.  The sight of it filled him with love, warmth and pride, though it had more to do with the man currently lifting him in the air.  This man taught him the meaning of pride, he was Italy as far as Lovino knew, and Italy was his home and even though he could not remember it properly. Lovino thought about how much he missed it every single day.

This was the dream which his mother’s exuberant ‘Bella, Ciao!’ had interrupted. He grabbed his pillow and pulled it over his eyes in an effort to hold on to the dream, but the man’s laughter, the pride and the field were already fading.

“Buenos Días!!” His mother exclaimed, jumping on the bed and pulling her son into a great big bear hug.

 “Mama! Don’t!” He fussed.  “It’s too early to wake up, Mama!” Lovino’s protests were loudly voiced in Italian, he didn’t care for his mother’s odd home-schooling method.  Today was Monday, and Mondays were “Spanish days” but as far as he was concerned, he was Italian and by God he would speak his language more than just two on the weekend. 

 “Cariño! Das Mamá abrazos hmmm? Por favor?” She smiled.  He glared at the ceiling, angrily refusing to look into her pleading eyes.

 Sensing perhaps that today was an especially moody day for her son, his mother did not push.  She only curbed her enthusiasm and settled back on the futon they shared, regarding him carefully. He turned away from her, lying on his stomach and refusing to move.  When he heard her sigh his heart made a twisted, guilty turn but he pretended not to care.

“Tú desayuno es en el horno.” She tried again, bubbly and cheerful.

Yes, he could smell the freshly baked cornetto waiting for him; he didn’t need it spelled out.  He stayed where he was, ignoring her.

After a protracted silence, she leaned down and placed a kiss on the back of his head.  “Te amo mi Lovi.” She sighed, sounding sad and a little defeated.  He felt her weight lift off their futon and he held still until he heard her leave the apartment.

Lovino remained in bed a little while longer, because he was crying and didn’t want to make a sound even though he was alone in the apartment. He hated days like this, when he woke up immediately feeling hopeless.  He was too small to change his life or to take care of his mother. He could only stay locked in their apartment.

Lovino had no idea what his mother’s job was, only that she worked six days out of the week to sustain their home.  His choice words to describe it were actually ‘piece of shit apartment’ but he never used that language in front of his mother.  For all her smiles and apparent cheerfulness, Lovino knew that her eyes were actually sad and he tried his best not to make it worse.  On some days however, he couldn’t help himself. He was terrified of what she was capable of on the rare occasions when she lost her temper, and he felt incredibly guilty when she was sad.  Because of these conflicting emotions, Lovino let his mother enforce a few rules in their home:

1)    No going outside without her. She would lock the iron gate in front of their apartment door whenever she left for the day.

2)    No television.  Lovino was not allowed to watch any and to this end, there was none in their home. Neither was there a computer, tablet, smartphone, or anything he could stream from.  Even the radio they had was old and had no antennae. It was only used to play his mother’s music CDs and occasionally for lessons.

3)    No phone calls to anyone except his mother.  This was easy to enforce, as his cellphone was a simple pre-paid with minimal balance to which only she knew the number. He was only allowed to have the phone so that he could call her in an emergency. She would also check his phone in the evenings to make sure the balance had not mysteriously disappeared. She had used the phone to check on him throughout the day when they had first arrived but now that they were more settled in, she usually only called in the early evening.

4)    Study. Lovino did not go to school. He had not attended school since that day when they had run away.  To compensate, his mother bought textbooks and taught him in the evenings if she was not too tired, leaving him assignments for the day.  He was the worst student that ever lived and often ignored his homework.

5)    Language. They were Italians, but they lived in Spain and his mother seemed to think he needed to speak English as well. Consequently, they spoke Italian on the weekends and second half of Fridays, English on Tuesdays and Thursdays and Spanish on Mondays, Wednesdays and the first half of Fridays.

6)    Prayers. His mother was very religious and tried her best t take him to church on her Sundays off.

 

As he could not change his situation until he was old enough to actually do what he thought a man was supposed to do-- to protect her or beat the shit out of anyone who already would or had--Lovino just had to continue living with this situation at present.  In the early years of this living arrangement, that frustration overwhelmed him and he would destroy whatever he saw, often leading to him destroying cups and plates, since they were the easiest to break.  Lovino only stopped after his mother finally lost her temper at him. To his horror, she picked up one of the shards and cut a jagged wound across her arm to show him how dangerous his destructive tendencies were.

Since that event, Lovino learned to be more careful of his little acts of rebellion, considering first any possible way his mother could hurt herself. In the end he settled on ignoring whatever he was supposed to do when she wasn’t home. He sang loudly in Italian, and played instead of doing his work.  He practiced football tricks that his body somehow remembered with an old ball. There was only one thing missing – running.  Lovino missed running and there were days when he wished that he could just run endlessly. He didn’t even care where. 

Today was such a day.  After finishing his cornetto and drinking the heated milk his mother had left for him, Lovino rushed to the kitchen and fished a knife out from the drawer.  He went straight to the iron gate in front of the door. He had figured out how to pick the lock a few weeks ago but other than three brief runs out in nearby streets, had not used much of his newfound freedom. 

Emboldened by this freedom, Lovino had lifted a guy’s wallet on his second time outside. After the initial panic, he realized he was not going to get caught and started thinking about what to do with his new treasure.  He used the stolen money to buy candy and, after careful observation of people mulling at a bus-stop, a metrocard.

And so, lucky and well-equipped, Lovino decided that today he would take a bus. He would keep track of the stops and get out in a place where he could run; a field or something.

After a nerve-wracking period of picking the lock and carefully making his way out to the street, he was ready and waiting at the bus stop. Taking note of the number, Lovino stepped onto the first bus that arrived and sat in the front next to a busy, middle-aged woman chatting on her phone.  He liked distracted people, because they left him alone as he desperately gazed out the window at the streets passing by.  The moving buildings and trees from the window relaxed him, and he started savoring the newness of his freedom.  He drank in everything allowing the smells of the city to assault him after so many years of living in one little apartment.  It was at once the longest and shortest bus ride in his life – long because everything was so new and had to be processed.  Short because he did not wish to stay on too long, lest he lose track of his stops.

Lovino had no idea what made him get off the bus when he did.  Much later in his life he would suppose it was nothing short of an Act of God, and even Antonio - who never attended church unless Lovino dragged him along – had to agree.   

But step off Lovino did, and he walked, savoring his freedom and the different, now almost grassy smell of the surrounding air.  He stopped when he heard voices, energetic laughter and the sounds of running feet.  Running. Lovino remembered that he had escaped today in order to find somewhere to run. 

When he finally climbed up the slight grassy hill and looked over the other side to where the sounds came from, Lovino could only stare at the wide dirt field, where backpacks, sticks and thrown down jerseys left a rough outline of a large square boundary.  He stared at the shorter lengths of the field, where two stones as large as his head served as makeshift goals and groups of boys were running and kicking a football (a proper one like in his dream!) between each other. They were older than him, one team dressed in shirts that were faded shades of red, and the other in blues.

Lovino’s heart started thumping hard and fast, his eyes widened and suddenly the world was clear.  He wanted to join the older boys running in front of him, to chase that ball and clear a path down that dirt field.  Memories returned even clearer, a ball kicked over soft green grass, the encouraging dark-haired man running and playing with him. Suddenly those memories stopped because a smiling green-eyed and chestnut-haired Spanish teenager was standing right in front of him. Lovino screamed in surprise and abruptly fell over backwards, causing the other kids to stop  playing and run over. 

Lovino flushed a brilliant red at the sudden attention.  He stared at the Spaniard uncomprehending for a moment, until he was forced to accept that yes, this bastard was speaking to him in Spanish and dammit, for all of Lovino’s Italian pride, he could understand what was being said.

“Well, look at you!” Exclaimed the smiling teenager before turning around and calling out to his friends “How cute! This kid is blushing all over so much he looks like a little tomato!”

Lovino wanted to bury his head in the sand out of embarrassment, but instead he head-butted that damned smiling idiot as soon as he turned back.

“Ow! What was that for?!”

“Antonio! Why are you terrifying children when you’re supposed to be defending!” Another teenager ran into Lovino’s line of sight, helping his friend up. This teenager had blonde, wavy hair tied into a ponytail.  There was something off about his accent, and while he also spoke Spanish, he was not native, but Lovino could not place that careful, slower tempo and softer pronunciation. “Oh but isn’t he just a beautiful little thing!” The odd-sounding teenager suddenly cooed, making a rather stupid, simpering face.  “If rather skinny.” After a brief pause, his blue eyes narrowed slightly.  “Well, well, would you just look at those pretty eyes?  What a…unique shade of light green.  _Mon Dieu_! Life is not fair! I should have such beautiful eyes! Oh but I want to pinch those cheeks! Don’t you Antonio?”

 Shocked, Lovino only turned wide-eyed at the original teenager.  He seemed much less frightening.

“Forget his eyes Francis!” The Spaniard wailed, glaring at Lovino. “He hits hard with that head! I thought you were cute!”  

Alien laughter approached Lovino from behind.  Shuddering a little now, Lovino turned around. “ _Kesesesese…_ you just got your ass kicked by a kid.  Thought you were a tough guy, Antonio!” 

This third person was unlike anything Lovino had ever seen. He didn’t even bother trying to place the odd accent because this guy had white hair and red eyes! Red eyes like a damned demon.  Trembling suddenly, Lovino started edging away, looking for a place to run. 

“Hey runt!” The red-eyed boy called out, somewhat more gently this time. “Don’t let Antonio and Francis scare you off now.  The awesome ME will protect you! You just interrupted our play running into the middle of our game like that. Not all that safe for a kid like you.”

Surprised, Lovino looked around carefully.  He had indeed run into the middle of the game and was now standing in the center of the makeshift field.  The Spaniard called Antonio had been in possession of the ball.  Chuckling, Antonio moved to kneel in front of him, looking into his eyes. 

“Let’s start over again shall we, little tomato?”

“Don’t call me that _bastardo_!” Lovino yelled. Antonio only raised his eyebrows and regarded Lovino carefully.

“That’s quite a word for a little kid like you! What shall we call you then hmm? If you don’t tell me, I’ll just have to keep calling you the Little Tomato!”

Backing up from Antonio and yelling blasphemies in Italian, Lovino eyed the three boys carefully. Finally he looked at the other teenagers gathered around.  There was something different about this group, none of them looked the same. In his previous journeys outside he had noticed an air of commonality in crowds, something Spanish, or something Italian, but something told Lovino that with the exception of Antonio, these kids were not locals.  Still they did not appear to be kidnappers or anything so scary, just a bunch of guys who got together to play football.  It was common enough. 

“Romano.” He finally muttered.  He wondered why he didn’t tell them his first name, but so many years of hiding forced him to only be half-truthful. 

“It’s nice to meet you Romano! I’m Antonio, this Frenchie here is Francis and over there,” Antonio waved at his red-eyed friend, “Is Gilbert.”

 When Lovino nodded and muttered something about how he didn’t care one way or the other who they were, Antonio only laughed harder and ignored everything he said. “So, Little Tomato, you wanna watch us play?”

 “Hey! Don’t call me that!” there was something about the way this Antonio guy never stopped smiling that made Lovino inclined not to trust him. “And I don’t want to watch you play, I’m gonna teach you all how to play!”

 “Oh?” Antonio answered in mock curiosity.  “By all means then, teach us how to play.” He stretched his arm out to where the ball had rolled to and there was something different in his tone now. It was sharper and challenging. Though his smile was still in place, there was less warmth to it and Lovino knew that he had crossed a line somewhere. Despite this, he knew he wanted to stay. Lovino wanted, no, _needed_ to play real football and bouncing a deflated old ball around carefully in the apartment was not going to satisfy him anymore. He wanted to play with others, to play the game as it was meant to be played.  He had run in open fields once, and he wanted to again. He wanted to stay here with these teenagers and run free. 

 “F-f-fine! Bastardo.” Lovino stammered, blushing red again. “I’ll show you how football is meant to be played!”

 And even though Lovino was only nine years old, he did.  The older boys laughed or smiled patiently, stepping off the field to let Lovino face off against Antonio.  Francis rolled his eyes, smiling, but Gilbert shot Antonio a warning glare as if to say ‘don’t bully the kid.’  Then they realized that Lovino was hopping in place and juggling the ball on his two feet with surprising precision.  Once Lovino had distracted them for an appropriate amount of time, he started tearing down the field, running around Antonio. Lovino stayed and played with the older boy for a while, kicking the ball between Antonio’s legs before darting around to dribble the ball away and sending it sailing between the two rocks that served as the goal. 

 Lovino turned to smirk at Antonio, but Antonio only stared at where the ball had landed, eyebrows raised as if to say “Well…”. 

 What he really said, harsh and challenging was, “Okay Tomato, I underestimated you. Let’s see you get past me again.”

 “Here.” Francis threw the ball back into the pitch with a grin, having run to retrieve it. Lovino tore off towards it the moment it hit the ground.  This time Antonio took him more seriously and Lovino couldn’t play around like before (though he did a little, kicking the ball back and stalling it on the back of his foot before resuming).  Lovino couldn’t help but add a little scissor around the ball while he ran with it down the field. He knew he was taunting and embarrassing Antonio but he couldn’t help it, he just felt so free that he wanted to play for everything this moment was worth.  Before too long though, he kicked the ball to the goal again, where Gilbert caught it and threw it back. 

 Slowly, each of the players came back onto the field, except for Francis who sat out, and a game began in earnest.  Antonio was a Red, while Lovino found himself adopted by Francis’ and Gilbert’s Blues. Lovino also discovered that while Antonio was a menace and a decent defender, Gilbert was as good as a wall in front of the goal.  He was probably lucky that they were on the same team otherwise there would be no way he could have defeated the Reds so easily.  Still, when the Blues won, they hoisted him above their shoulders and sang songs in several languages, tossing him up and down and tickling him before finally setting him down.  Lovino’s face hurt from smiling and laughing so much.  It felt like forever since he smiled and it was the happiest he had been in a very long time. 

 When Antonio ran over, all genuine smiles again to pick him up and swing him around, Lovino suddenly went limp because he was exhausted.  Lovino had not run for years and now he was winded, breathing hard and dizzy.  Antonio was calling out to him, concerned, his face scrunched in worry as he settled Lovino on the ground and Gilbert ran water over.  To Lovino the world seemed blurry and too bright, but after a while he recovered, guzzled the water down and looked up at the sky.  It was getting late and his mother would call soon. Looking wide-eyed at Antonio, Lovino stammered half-hearted thanks and goodbyes and made to run off.

 “Not so fast!” Antonio held on tightly to Lovino’s arm. 

 “P-P-Please! Let me go! I have to go home!” Lovino begged.  When Antonio didn’t let go and started eyeing him suspiciously, Lovino felt so helpless he started to cry.  “PLEASE! Just let me go damnit! Bastardo let me go!! I promise I’ll never bother you again!”

 The tears softened Antonio, and if Lovino were more aware, he would have noticed Gilbert and Francis looking concerned as well.  Antonio still didn’t let go but he did kneel on the ground in front of Lovino again, wiping the tears away with his other hand.

 “Hey there little Tomato,” he cooed.  “Don’t be like that.  We would love it if you came back here tomorrow if you can.  In fact, over the summer we’re here everyday except the weekend. It’s up to you.”

 With that said, Antonio released him and Lovino turned and sprinted away as fast as he could without a second glance.  He managed to get on the right bus and snuck back into the apartment with a few hours to spare before his mother returned.  By that point, he had washed his clothes to get the dirt out of them and hung them up to dry.  For good measure, he washed his mother’s clothes as well so it wouldn’t look too suspicious, and then he ate the food she left in the fridge and collapsed into an exhausted sleep.

 When his mother returned, she noted that her son had done her the great favor of doing their laundry and had flooded the bathroom, leaving a trail of washing powder all over the tiny apartment.  She appreciated the gesture but it was no wonder that her son was so exhausted. Smiling, she cleaned up his mess and gave him a kiss before pouring herself a glass of wine to hum ‘Bella, Ciao’ softly in her usual dark corner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some terms:
> 
> Juggling - Exactly what it sounds like and with one ball, except Lovino is using his feet, alternating bouncing the football between each foot's instep.
> 
> Dribbling - The act of controlling the ball while running.
> 
> Scissoring - Swinging a foot around in front of the ball while dribbling and kicking with the other foot. This serves to confuse the defender/person in front of you. To the average audience, it kind of just looks like you're dancing around the ball :P
> 
> Finally, I've found that 'Bella Ciao' is a favorite amongst Hetalia fans for the Italy brothers, so I've just come to associate the song with them and by extension, their family. For the version I was thinking of when I wrote this fic:  
> http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vX-03Urdgp8


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lovino finds that he cannot resist the lure of football and freedom every morning, even at the risk of discovery. As he plays with Antonio and his friends for the rest of the summer, Lovino feels accepted for the first time in years. But how long can he continue living a double life?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi. I’m still looking for a beta for this fic, especially if you’re a football fan as well. Please do contact me if you’re interested!
> 
> Well, with Brazil 2014 under way, my decision to boycott FIFA and the next 3 world cups remains strong, but I am rather frustrated. I really wish I could watch. I’ve therefore tried to pour these frustrations into writing. 
> 
> Do note that this is a kind of parallel universe, so I will make up the victors for 2014, 2018 and 2022 in this series. Heehee, they’re no one to bet over, just my personal guesses or biases. Enjoy!

The next day, Lovino hesitated after he managed to pick the lock. Standing before the open door, what felt like a million little worries overcame him – how long would it take until he was caught? When would his mother discover him and change the lock or make him leave Spain? What if he was kidnapped? What if whatever they were hiding from found him? How could he possibly play without getting his clothes dirty again? It was impossible!

But Lovino couldn’t bring himself the close the door and lock himself in again. There was nothing for him in the empty apartment but frustration, boredom and hopelessness. Beyond the door, there was at least the promise of an extra day of freedom, wherever that would lead. With shaking fingers, Lovino stepped out the door. Even after he ran out to the street, boarded the familiarly numbered bus and found himself at the field, he was still shaking.

Then the ground left him and Lovino screamed while being tossed into the air. Laughter and a frighteningly jubilant voice greeted him,  “Tomato! You came back!” Antonio cheered once he caught Lovino again.  Startled, Lovino could only stare at this crazy Spanish teenager and his happy green eyes.

Lovino heard the others laughing, shaking him out of his stupor.  His face felt hot with embarrassment, which of course led to Antonio cooing like Lovino was some kind of small dog.

“Oh look at that red face! That’s our little TomatoOH!” Antonio doubled over in jest as Lovino punched him in the stomach. 

“Stupid Spaniard.” Lovino muttered.  He realized then that his hand hurt and shook it out.  “Ow! Why the fuck is your stomach so hard bastardo?!”

Laughing some more, Antonio ignored the question, sat on the grass and started pulling out some clothes from his backpack.  “Anyway, Tomato, I’m happy that you came back because otherwise I’d have to figure out what to do with these.  But since you’re here, you can wear them like you were meant to!”

Curious, Lovino stepped closer, not really believing his eyes.  Antonio was pulling the paper and plastic tags off what looked to be a set of new sports clothes – a shiny navy blue shirt, black shorts and socks.  ‘There’s no way,’ Lovino thought.  ‘These can’t be for me.’ 

Antonio, being the clueless person he was, continued talking while pulling out the tags. “I meant to get you a proper pair of shoes as well, though your current sneakers seemed to do well enough yesterday. But then, I realized that I have no idea how big your little feet are! Haha! Nevermind, let me look at your shoes today okay? It’s really easy for me to stop back at the Nike store on my way home. Anyway, try the shirt on at least, so I know if it fits!”

Lovino could only stare in shock at the shirt being held out to him. It would be a little big on him, but not much.  It certainly wasn’t going to fit Antonio.  Apparently it was for him, and Lovino could only blush and look away, shaking again, little hands balling into fists.  He was so confused, why did this complete stranger buy him clothes? Why was Antonio so nice? What did he want? Lovino had nothing to give.  Surely Antonio and the rest of these obviously rich kids knew that. Then Lovino felt relieved because one of the problems plaguing him all morning about wearing out his clothes was just partially solved.  But why would anyone do this for him?

“Hey Tomato come on!” Antonio pleaded, breaking Lovino out of his thoughts. “It’s just a shirt, if you don’t like the color that’s easy enough to change!”

Looking at Antonio’s frustrated and hurt face, Lovino shook his head, trying to say something along the lines of, “I don’t need your pity!” or “You didn’t need to do this, what kind of dumb idiot are you?” or even “What the fuck? Do you just buy clothes for every kid you see on the street?!” but to his horror, the only thing coming out from him was tears, falling warm down his face and snot leaking from his nose.  He tried to hide behind his hands, but his shoulders just convulsed from the sobs, while arms and a larger body enveloped him in a warm hug. 

“Shhhhh Romano, it’s okay.  Why are you crying hmm?”

Footsteps came running close but Lovino only held tightly onto Antonio and cried into the older boy’s shoulder, embarrassed but unable to stop.

A deeper girl’s voice broke through, yelling in English, although her accent was impossible to decipher. Lovino clung to Antonio even as he looked up to see who she was. ‘Dear God,’ he thought to himself. ‘Please tell me I didn’t just break down and start crying in front of a girl.’  It was a minor unanswered prayer, because she was a girl - red haired, as tall as Gilbert who was running up behind her, pale and blessed with a pair of blazing green eyes that were being met by Antonio’s concerned ones.

“Relax Mary,” Antonio replied carefully in English, still holding Lovino and patting him on the back reassuringly.  “I was giving Romano some of the stuff I got him yesterday and he just started crying. I think this kid has just been very strong for a long time.  I’m not entirely sure what’s going on, but I’m going to find out.”

With that declaration, Lovino stiffened and pulled away.  ‘No,’ he thought to himself.  ‘He can’t find out.  I can’t let him find us, can’t let him find Mama.  Damn I’m such an idiot for coming back here!’  He glared at Antonio cautiously. 

The Spaniard looked at him curiously, head cocked to the side. “Well, well.” He responded in English. “You can understand English _Tomate_.  How about that.”

The girl, Mary stepped forward and tried to say something to him, her tone kind and questioning, but try as he might, Lovino really could not understand her. What accent was that?

Gilbert stepped forward, with a smile.  “Sorry _Distel_ *, but the way you talk takes some time to get used to.”

Lovino scoffed. “Shut up weirdo.” He spat out in Spanish.  “I barely understood you just now anyway! Unless any of you are going to speak English that I can understand, we will speak in Spanish!...Or Italian.”

Gilbert raised an eyebrow, smirking a little at the attitude, while Antonio burst out with laughter.  He ran over and hugged Lovino again before wiping the snot away with a handkerchief. Before Lovino had a chance to fight him off, he was released with his new shirt draped around his shoulders.

“You’re a smart kid Tomato!” Antonio cheered, reverting back to Spanish. Turning to Gilbert and Mary, he called out.  “Can you guys just give us a minute?” Both nodded and turned to run warm up laps around the field. Satisfied, Antonio looked down with a smile.  “Mary’s a great girl. She’s from Scotland though, so she can be difficult to understand, in any language.  Any Gilbert’s from…” he chuckled.  “Prussia.  Anyway, why don’t you try that shirt on? It’s really yours! And if you hate the color, just tell me what your favorite color is okay?”

Lovino nodded, eyeing Antonio warily.  He had no idea where Scotland or Prussia were, or what was so funny about the second country.  Lovino also hadn’t forgotten what was said earlier, but Antonio was smiling brightly, as if he already had.  Shrugging, Lovino pulled his shirt off and handed it to Antonio, who took it, observing Lovino carefully.

‘Great,’ Lovino thought, trying to clear his sniffles.  ‘He probably thinks I’m going to cry again.’ It was truly getting embarrassing. He had only known Antonio for two days and had cried in front of him twice already.  Lovino was not one to cry easily either; he held it in for his mother’s sake.  Pushing those thoughts aside, Lovino pulled down his new shirt and reveled a little in how smooth and cooling it felt.  It was a little big, but that hardly mattered. 

Antonio must have thought the same, because he smiled again and said “Good! Better a little big than too small.  You can grow into it.  Now you can put the rest on, leave your clothes in my bag and you can change back after we’re done okay?”

With a grin, Antonio ran off to join the rest running laps around the field, and after a moment, Lovino joined them.

By some miracle, Lovino was not discovered for the rest of that summer. Though he faced nerves and trepidation every morning, in the end he always decided to step out the door, drawn to the freedom of the field and the warm welcome that greeted him. The football group became almost a second family to Lovino.  They welcomed him to every game, started each day off with a giant potluck picnic that served as lunch, brought lots of bottled water to keep him hydrated, and once even took him to the doctor when they suspected he was ill.

They came from different private schools across Madrid.  Most were diplomats’ children, attending international schools around the city.  Francis was the son of the French Ambassador, attending one of the many French Schools. Gilbert was his friend visiting over the summer, while Mattias was from Denmark and attended the American school along with Lukas from Norway.  Antonio was one of the few locals and attended an elite boarding school. They had met through the school year in inter-school sports competitions, and somehow ended up forming this summer league for those who did not go home for the holidays. They were all about seven years older than him, with Antonio, Francis and Gilbert being sixteen.

Since they were teenagers, there were romances aplenty that Lovino witnessed with embarrassment and sometimes confusion.  Matthias and Lukas were dating, which initially confused Lovino, but otherwise did not raise a reaction from him, to everyone’s surprise.  Lovino had been sheltered for too long to understand why such a thing should.  He was more surprised that Lukas even liked Matthias in the first place with all the insults and abuse the Norwegian boy threw at the Dane.  Lovino felt like he could relate to Lukas though, because Matthias was always overwhelmingly affectionate, irritating, loud and was prone to showing off. He could tell some amazing stories though.

Francis was dating a pretty Indian girl from the Seychelles named Veronique. She was rather hopeless at playing football, but was happy to cheer loudly on the sidelines.  That pair traumatized Lovino quite by accident one day. He arrived early to the field and saw them embracing half naked behind a tree that couldn’t hide anything. He felt like he had screamed for hours, until Antonio arrived to take him aside (still screaming) and Gilbert yelled at both Francis and Veronique about kids, their ability to be where you never expect them and being careful.  After that, Lovino had to fight the urge to run away screaming whenever he saw either Francis or Veronique approach him. 

But Lovino’s favorite person was Mary.  He would blush in her presence out of nerves, stammer and fumble the ball. He would run up to her the moment he saw her, then stop, panic, run away and generally feel stupid. As opposed to Veronique, Mary was the best player they had.  She preferred playing either the right or left midfield, rather than central. She was one of the few who could get past the ‘Gilbert wall’ as they called it, and even then it was rare. It had nothing to do with the fact that the two were dating, but more that neither of them were the type to give any mercy in a competition.  Apparently she had a younger brother named Arthur who desired to become a professional player. He was therefore even more competitive and to her chagrin, was the better player.  However, for reasons no one felt like explaining to Lovino, Arthur refused to join the summer group.

Still, Mary always spared Lovino a smile.  It was a smile with an almost wild edge to it, making him feel like he was staring at a beautiful wildcat of some kind.  Lovino could never stop looking at her though, staring at her back, spying the tattoo peeking out from behind the sweaty tank top that he could never make out. Gilbert for his part found his tiny competition absolutely amusing and offered ‘awesome’ lessons, so that one day, Lovino could have a chance of stealing her away. It was odd, but Lovino was never jealous of Gilbert, but the couple were not prone to cuddles or gestures like Francis and Veronique.  Once, Lovino asked Mary for a cigarette after he spied her smoking one.  It was the first and only time he ever saw her so flustered. She put it out and he never saw her smoke again.   

The most significant thing that came out of Lovino’s little crush on Mary was speaking English.  Mary did not speak Spanish beyond knowing how to introduce herself and ask for directions, and her amused conversations with him gave Lovino newfound incentive to actually listen to the language and decipher her accent.  This of course, led to him having to deal with everyone else suddenly preferring to speak English, except for Francis and Antonio. 

As for Antonio, as far as Lovino could tell, he was not dating anyone, which meant that Francis would run over and grope him as much as possible after every goal. Though it was normal for players to become affectionate after a goal was scored, Lovino felt it was overdone that Francis would grab anything of Antonio that he could get his hands on, even when the other team scored. 

Somehow, Lovino ended up being Antonio’s responsibility.  He had no idea how it happened, but Antonio looked to Lovino’s wellbeing more than the rest.  He laughed off insults and curses and spoiled Lovino whenever he could. At first it was sweets so that Lovino would have energy to play a game.  After he realized that Lovino was stealing the tomatoes he packed as snacks for himself, Antonio simply brought more tomatoes.  It reached a point where Francis started calling Lovino ‘the little Prince’, which was soon changed by Antonio to ‘Tomato Princeling’. Lovino did not enjoy any of these nicknames but was powerless to stop them, no matter how much fuss he kicked up.

In honest moments however, Lovino was grateful for Antonio. True to his promise, Antonio did buy Lovino a pair of football sneakers and two additional sets of clothes. The sports clothes he bought Lovino were always freshly washed for each day.  Antonio even started loaning Lovino his metrocard, topped full with money, and did not look bothered when Lovino asked if he were afraid it would get lost.  Antonio only looked at Lovino with a frighteningly knowing expression and said. “Well what can I say Tomato? I think that you’re going to make sure you don’t lose it.

Afterwards, Lovino made sure no one followed him home, but there was never any sign of Antonio or the others from the field.  Besides, Antonio was right.  The moment Lovino lost the metrocard, he was trapped again, until he managed to somehow find more money to buy another card.  Furthermore, no one ever came knocking on the door searching for him or his mother, so it appeared that his secret was safe.

Before he knew it, the whole summer passed, with only one week left of playing with the group.  Lovino was never caught and he now felt a sense of loss.  He never expected to have to keep this secret this long, but now he was faced with the reality of losing his football days.  Everyone would return to school, and next year even if the group met, they would not be the same.  Gilbert would leave for good as this summer was a one-time visit for him anyway, Mattias and Lukas were graduating and who knew what else would change? 

‘Maybe it’s a blessing,’ he thought to himself, on his now familiar bus ride. ‘I can’t keep this up forever. I’m going to get caught.’ How long could he hope to play without injury? Or some other obvious sign of his secret? It was also tiring, keeping his football life a secret from his mother, and keeping his home life hidden from Antonio and the rest of the group.

When Lovino arrived at the field, he found a somber group.  Even the unusually cheerful ones like Antonio, Veronique, Matthias and Francis looked upset.  He knew it was serious when Matthias and Lukas openly held hands.

“Hey…” he grabbed Antonio’s arm.  “What happened? Why do you all look so…sad?”

Surprised, Antonio smiled, though it was hollow.  “Hello there, little Prince.  We’re glad you could make it.” Somehow, Antonio never failed to greet Lovino with some form of that statement every day. “We’re just mourning for Mary. She’s not here today see? Gilbert just told us that her father died last night rather unexpectedly. She’s packing up with her family to return to England, and I don’t think she’ll come back to Spain for a long time.”

Lovino gaped at Antonio, wide-eyed and shocked.  

“Yeah, kid.” Gilbert said.  “It’s…” he sighed. “Well, it’s sad. Not many ways to put it. But it’s also a tough job to pack up a whole house on sudden notice, so we were talking about going to the Kirkland’s place to help them do that as much as we can.”

Lovino stayed silent.  He had no idea what was appropriate to do, only he wished that Mary could be there so he could…do what? Hug her? What good would that do? He tried to think about what it meant to lose your father, and hit that wall of uncomfortable truth that he usually avoided in his mind.  He didn’t have a father either, not for a long time, and never dared to ask his mother about him. She avoided the topic so well that he knew it was not something to talk about.  Then Lovino looked to the empty field that would not be used today, and his brain recalled a mostly forgotten dream of a smiling man in a bright green field and he felt a sudden, overwhelming loss that he did not want to understand.

He did not realize he was crying until gentle fingers wiped his face, and he was taken into familiar arms.  “Ah, Romano,” Antonio muttered.  “I’m sorry for telling it to you like that, I should have found a nicer way.” Francis smiled sympathetically and handed Lovino some tissues, which he grabbed shoved against his nose. 

“Antonio,” Francis started.  “Are you up for going to the Kirkland’s home? Maybe you can stay with Romano…unless Romano, you want to come along?”

Lovino shook his head.  He did not want to go to a house in mourning to see sad faces, with no idea of what he would do. Lovino felt Antonio’s body stiffen, before it slowly relaxed.  But Antonio’s jaw was tight when he replied.  “I’ll see Mary and Mrs. Kirkland before they leave but I’ll spare them the mess of whatever the hell would happen if Arthur and I are in the same damn room.”

That seemed to settle everything, because afterwards, Lovino was sitting on the grass alone by the field with Antonio, staring into the distance under the clear blue sky. It was a beautiful day for such sad news, but he recalled now, it was a beautiful day as well when his mother drove him away.  Lovino wanted to ask about Mary’s brother as there was clearly a story being hidden there, but did not know how.  He was well trained by this point, to avoid topics that people did not wish to speak of, but he was curious about this mysterious boy who played better than Mary, and worked so hard to play professionally.

“Want a tomato?” Antonio broke the silence, handing over a big, red and juicy one.

Lovino took it without looking at Antonio.  “How do you always get such good ones?” He demanded.

Laughing, Antonio lifted a finger to his lips and winked.  “That’s a secret.  But only the best tomatoes can be offered to the Tomato Princeling after all!”

Lovino groaned.  Honestly, why did Antonio always say such stupid and embarrassing things? “Stop treating me like a 2 year old.” He bit out.

Antonio only chuckled.  “Sorry Romano,” he did not sound like he really meant it.  “Bear with me.  I never got a chance to know my siblings so maybe I try too hard.  Do you have siblings little prince?”

Lovino closed his eyes.  He saw flashes of chubby cheeks, tiny fingers with a strong grip around his own little finger, the same warm brown eyes as Mama and non-stop nonsense babble that should not have been so adorable, but was.  His heart clenched in protest at the memory, so he opened his eyes and answered simply.

“No.” It was barely a whisper.

Antonio shifted, those frightening knowing eyes settling on Lovino, and Lovino looked away. He told himself that he didn’t care if Antonio knew he was lying, but some memories were just too painful. How could that happy Spaniard ever understand? Why was he only ever painfully stupid or terrifyingly smart? It couldn’t be normal.

“Alright,” Antonio replied, in disbelieving tone.  “How about this? What’s your dream Romano? What do you want to be when you’re older?”

“You really gotta stop the interrogation bastardo!” Lovino shot back. He was feeling extremely defensive after having to repress strong memories again.  Then he had to fight back tears because why was it that Mama never spoke about Feli? Was there something she knew that she just was not telling him? Did something happen to his little brother and was that why they left? Suddenly, he was afraid. “If we’re not going to play or do anything today, I’m leaving!” he huffed, slightly panicked, trying to stand, but stumbled as he did so. Antonio caught and steadied him, smiling calmly.

“I want to be a singer.” Antonio suddenly grinned.

Incredulous, Lovino stopped moving and stared at the older boy. “Seriously?!”

“Seriously.” Antonio nodded.  “I play the guitar you know? And you might think this is really pathetic but I love watching Eurovision, The Voice, all the Idols and all those talent shows. That’s what I want to do. I want to be a singer. I want to find inspiration, write my own songs and share them with the world.  Oh and dancing too.  I bet you didn’t know that I’m a great dancer!”

Antonio was only met with a disbelieving scoff.  Lovino had no idea what the other things were but the idea of Antonio singing and dancing for a living was somehow ridiculous to him.

“Fine, how’s this? I’ll sing! Then after I’m done singing, you will applaud! And then we can practice some free kicks.  When we take breaks you can ask me any question and I’ll answer you. How’s that?”

With a huff, Lovino answered.  “Fine idiota.” He found he as actually curious after all, if Antonio was as good as he said. The only music he had heard for the longest time was his mother singing in the morning.  She had a sweet voice and Lovino was convinced no one could sound sweeter.

Antonio grinned, then started singing.  His expression changed immediately, and a clear and soulful tenor voice filled the field with a slow but passionate ballad. 

“ _Dos Gardenias, para ti,_

_Con ellas quiero decir,_

_Te quiero, te adoro, me vida,_

_Ponles toda tú atención,_

_Que seran tú corazón,_

_Y el mío…”_

 

As Antonio continued to serenade the empty field, Lovino had to grudgingly agree. The airheaded Spaniard could sing well. Lovino felt the emotion of the song and could even imagine two dying gardenias wasting away in a plain glass vase in a quiet house.  He still thought that romance was disgusting, thanks to Francis and Veronique, but maybe something like what Gilbert and Mary had was more appealing.  Although, Lovino almost wished they were more affectionate. He tended to forget that they were a couple. Gilbert seemed to treat her the same way he treated Frances and Antonio.  It was nothing like the love songs his mother occasionally sang. This song that Antonio chose was reminiscent of his mother’s songs, sweet but sad.

When Antonio finished, he looked at Lovino with a smug expression, expecting applause. Instead, Lovino kicked the closest football onto the field and started running away.

“Hey! Come on Tomato! You owe me at least a few claps before we play! You agreed!” Antonio called out, grinning.  He was going to sit there and not move until he got what he wanted. Lovino let out a grumble and gave five reluctant claps, before running warm up laps up and down the field.

Smiling, Antonio eventually joined him, and they spent the rest of the day as was promised. Lovino did not actually have many questions, but was wondering when Antonio would turn the offer around to ask questions of his own.  He learned that neither of Antonio’s parents lived in Spain, though both were Spanish. His father was the Spanish Ambassador to Mexico (whatever that meant), and his mother was married to a Portuguese man who owned a wine estate.  Lovino also learned that Antonio’s favorite color was red, and when he was 5 years old, he wanted to be a matador.  Antonio also bragged that his love of music gave him an ear for languages, and in addition to Spanish and English, could also speak Portuguese, French, Catalan and Basque. 

“Learn Italian and then maybe I’ll congratulate you!” Lovino yelled, kicking the ball as hard as he could into the goal.  Antonio caught it and called out “One day I will.  I can’t imagine it would be too difficult, being so close to Spanish and French.”  Tossing the ball out, Antonio returned to his first question.  “Okay Romano.  You know a lot about me now.  I just want to know one thing about you.  What do you want to be? I’m going to be a singer, how about you?”

Lovino snarled, aiming the ball for Antonio’s head.  “I don’t know alright?! I don’t think about it!”

Maddeningly, Antonio caught that ball too, as if he expected a shot to the head. “It’s good to have dreams little Tomato Prince.  Gives us something to look forward to, and it helps us know what makes us happy.”

Lovino stopped, toeing the ball under his foot.  What made him happy? Running made him happy, breathing grass and fresh air as opposed to the dusty air in his apartment or its nearby streets also made him happy.  He supposed if he were honest, this crazy group of teenagers who celebrated picnics everyday, dated each other just to have crazy stories to tell and whom hailed from many corners of the world helped him feel happy too. Lovino looked at the teenager standing about 4 meters in front of him and thought that having someone to wanted to play with him, yet also take care of him helped.  But there was no way he could ever tell Antonio that, so he said the next best thing.  “Playing football makes me happy.”

Football seemed to be the thing that always connected him to smiles, and happy memories.

Antonio gave a sunny smile in response.  “That’s great! Would you like to be a professional football player when you’re older? How about wearing the _Azzuro_ for Italy and play for your country? Win back the World Cup…hey! You know, Spain won the last World Cup, but man, Italy was pretty bad in South Africa, and I mean terribly bad! I think you could teach them a thing or twoOH!” He fell over, clutching his stomach as the football rolled away.  Lovino had kicked that with all the strength he had.  “Wow, Romano.” He wheezed.  “Your aim has improved a lot!”

Snarling, Lovino ignored the ball and sat down in front of the pained Spaniard lying on the grass.  “Don’t insult Italy in front of me again.”

“I was complementing you!”

“Shut up! Do I insult Spain in front of you? No! And I hate Spain! So just…” Lovino couldn’t think of anything to say.  “Just shut up.” He finished lamely.  Immediately he felt terrible, and refused to meet Antonio’s eyes. He stared at an ant crawling through the grass like it was the most fascinating thing on earth. He did not really hate Spain; after all, he didn’t know what Spain was beyond his apartment and this field. Lovino just hated being away from home. Though he did not know how to express that out loud.

After a moment of silence, Antonio sat up and placed a hand on Lovino’s shoulder. “Hey my little Prince, you’re right, that wasn’t nice of me, what I said.  I don’t always think about what I’m saying you know? And sports stuff tends to bring the competitive side out of me.  Please don’t look so sad.”

Lovino’s head shot up.  “I’m not sad!”

Chuckling, Antonio squeezed Lovino’s shoulder and stood up. Mutely, Lovino followed him and accepted a bottle of water.

“I’m sorry you feel that way Romano.  I’m sure that Spain will never own your heart the way Italy does, and that’s natural I guess.  But…I also think that you should see more of Spain.  Maybe one day I’ll take you.  I’m not saying that you need to love Spain, but,” Antonio paused, confused for a moment. “Honestly, I don’t know why I care so much Tomato.  I just hope that one day I can convince you to like it.  If you’re going to live here, you may as well make the best of it, yes?”

Lovino shrugged and looked away.  He was surprised that he felt hurt at Antonio’s admission.  All this time Lovino wondered why Antonio had somewhat adopted him, what made him special? And it turned out that Antonio did not know either. He felt the familiar queasiness run up his nose and heat around his eyes.  ‘Damnit, no!’ he thought to himself.  ‘I’m not crying again! This is ridiculous!’ So he started running, calling out, “I’m going home bastardo!”

“Romano wait!” Antonio yelled, running after him.  “I’ll take you home.”

“NO!” Lovino panicked running even faster, but Antonio caught up to him, grabbing his shoulder.

“Hey,” Antonio laughed, but this time Lovino knew it was fake.  “Come on, it can’t be safe for a little Tomato to be coming and going alone all this time.  We’re worried, and we’ve decided from now on that at least one of us must accompany you home. If we can agree on a time, we can pick you up as well.  Ah damn the timing. I used to have a motorcycle! I could have…”

But Lovino wrenched himself away from Antonio, causing the older boy to stumble. He sprinted as fast as he could to the bus stop, where as luck would have it, his bus was about to leave. Jumping in just as the doors closed, he made his way to the back window to see Antonio panting and glaring at the bus.

Huffing, Lovino sank into his seat and fought back tears.  He only allowed himself to cry once he made it home safely, cursing Antonio and the rest of the nosy group.

“Why am I so weak?” Lovino whispered to himself.  He had risked himself and his mother all summer because he wanted to run outside and play.  But would he be able to resist the temptation and stay home tomorrow? Thinking carefully he realized that even if he wanted to avoid Antonio and the teenager’s curiosity, he needed to say goodbye to Mary.  She was fond of him, and would definitely make at least one last visit to the field to see him.

Sighing, Lovino steeled himself to say goodbye to the field as well. The summer was ending anyway and he would accept that.  At least then he will have enjoyed one God-given summer of freedom, and could return to his old way of life without question.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Distel – Gilbert’s term of endearment for Mary, which is just German for ‘Thistle;' Scotland’s flower. He’s fond of the term because he finds her beautiful, yet prickly. It’s also the tattoo she has that Lovino can’t see clearly. 
> 
> Antonio is singing ‘Dos Gardenias’ by the Buena Vista Social Club. Check out this lovely song here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rublV5LQ5Ds


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Lovino's mother falls terribly ill, he needs Antonio's help...even if it means discovery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to furrfurr2001 (ff.net) for becoming my beta reader!
> 
> Also, major major thank you's to everyone who followed, favorited and left reviews! I'm truly grateful and overjoyed that you guys are enjoying this story. Sorry for the delay between posts, I expect I'll update this story once a month.
> 
> Congratulations to Germany for dominating this World Cup! I was not able to watch the tournament this round, but I heard from my friends that every game in this World Cup was phenomenal! My poor Antonio and Lovi will be able to take solace in each other's mutual early elimination from the competition, but there's always room for the future.
> 
> (Who else giggled when Japan faced Greece in the World Cup in an elimination battle and they ended up in a tie? I know I did).
> 
> As this story currently takes place in 2013, we're actually ahead of the game from these guys.

Lovino's gritty determination to see the field one last time and give everyone, especially Mary, a proper goodbye was forgotten as soon as he woke to a silent morning. It was not supposed to be silent. His mother sang every day without fail while she made breakfast.

With that realization, Lovino shot up, his eyes desperately looking for his mother. She was not in the kitchen, that only left the bathroom to check.

"Mama?! Mama are you in there?" He called in a panic, banging on the door. Lovino pressed his ear against the wood and heard her retching. "Mama!!" He tried the doorknob. Thankfully it was unlocked and Lovino rushed in, reaching immediately to his mother, who was hunched over the toilet bowl.

"Oh caro," she sighed. "I was really hoping that you wouldn't have to see me like this."

Lovino ignored her words and reached for her forehead. "Mama, you're burning! You can't work today, you have to rest!"

He knew by now that he could only suggest seeing a doctor once all the other options were exhausted. For the most part, his mother kept them both healthy. Their diet was ideal, and at most they caught harmless colds once or twice a year. Lovino could only remember one instance when he had a fever bad enough to cause a doctor's visit.

"Oh my sweet boy... does my Lovi think he could ever forgive me for making him grow up so soon?" She looked at him with tired and delirious brown eyes, her face was pallid and her lips too pale.

Her words shocked Lovino. He did not really know what they meant, since he was not grown at all. If he were, he would have simply picked his mother up and carried her to the bed or hospital. But he was still too small and weak. He needed to convince her to go there on her own. Lovino took her arm, gently urging her away from the toilet bowl. "Mama please, go lie down on the bed." He pleaded. "Lie down for me please. I'll get you medicine but first you need to rest." When she did not move he could only repeat himself a little louder, but still desperate. "Please! Mama…I need you." He meant to finish the sentence with 'to move to the bed', but he hiccuped before he could, and his mother's eyes suddenly shined with determination and she moved.

Once he got her to the bed, he ran to their medicine cabinet and looked for the painkillers. He was surprised to find that they were running out. His mother usually made sure that their food and medicine supplies never ran low. That was a problem for later though, at this moment, he needed to make sure his mother was all right.

After about an hour of coaxing his mother to take medicine, and dabbing her face with a wet towel, she finally fell asleep. Lovino spent the rest of the day rummaging around their small home for more medicine, taking stock of what was actually running low in the household, including food just in case.

The rest of the day passed with him remaining in a state of constant panic. When she slept he cooked and checked her temperature, then spent the rest of the time silent and anxious as he stared at her, praying and wishing for her to miraculously be well. When she awoke he fed her, and only became even more anxious because of her nonsensical and deluded words.

Once she sang 'Bella, Ciao' while crying for an hour, another time she called him 'Feli' and tried to sing him a lullaby, making his own heart feel like it was breaking into pieces, and finally, she screamed when she saw him and pushed him off the bed before curling up into a ball.

"Mama...?" He whispered, hurting because he had never seen her so broken before now and there was nothing he could do to make it better. There was a moment of lucidity he saw in her eyes when she opened them, before she collapsed into herself again.

"Oh caro, oh Lovi, I'm so sorry. I'm so so sorry, did I hurt you?" she cried.

"No Mama! Not at all, I'm fine! But you need a doctor, please!" he begged.

His mother seemed calm suddenly, thinking about it. "I'm too tired Lovi, we'll think about the doctor tomorrow. It's too late to go now. Until then,...I need you to stay away. I don't want you to get sick, alright?" She smiled, trying to look comforting but it had the exact opposite effect. Two could play at that game though, so Lovi nodded, and held her hand anyway, as she lost her composure and cried herself to sleep.

Sitting in the floor by the bed, he worried furiously. As far as he knew, they were not registered in their neighborhood, which meant that they did not have a medical card to seek free healthcare. When Antonio, Francis and Gilbert took him to a doctor earlier in the summer, it was a private clinic, and they paid the bill.

Lovino suddenly felt exhausted as he looked out the windows. It was dark out and he missed the game, which meant that he was not able to say goodbye to Mary, or to the rest of them for that matter. As he took in his silent and lonely apartment, with his mother frowning and twisting in her sleep, he fought back tears again. He had no idea how to further care for his mother, or how she had even allowed herself to become so ill. Lovino needed help. Looking at her again, he took a deep breath. He could only think of one solution – find his way to the field again once it was light enough and get help.

Lovino would face the consequences afterwards, whatever they were. If his mother wanted to move or change the lock, or whoever knows what after he revealed his secret, then she could do it – as long as she was healthy when she did. Feeling resolved, and lonely once again, Lovino crawled to lie down next to an open window, which allowed him a view of the stars as he finally dozed off.

She was weaker when he woke up, burning and coughing, and all he could do was give her water. He felt a little sick to his stomach, thinking that her weakness was a good thing today – she would not have the strength to stop him from running out the door and getting help. When he finally got her to sleep again, Lovino slumped against the window, looking out but not focused on anything. He was tired, but had to wait another two hours at least before he could go to the field. Then, someone familiar in the periphery of his vision caught his eye.

Eyes widening, Lovino stuck his head out the window for a better look. "It can't be…" he breathed. At that moment, Antonio looked up and saw him, waving away the stranger he was talking to.

"Romano!" He called, simultaneously worried and angry, but Lovino waved at him, gesturing at the older boy to stay quiet. Quickly he closed the window and ran to his mother's purse to grab the keys. Taking a quick look at her sleeping form, he took a big breath.

This was it, this was him running out the door and her knowing about it. This would be his two secret worlds colliding. Lovino crossed himself and muttered a quick prayer before dashing to the door, opening it and running downstairs to Antonio.

As soon as Antonio saw Lovino, he ran to him, but before he could say anything, Lovino cried "I have no idea how you found me bastardo but I need your help! Please! My mother needs a doctor and I don't know what to do!"

Antonio looked at him, shocked for just a moment, but in a second, gazed down at Lovino with piercing eyes and nodded. "Take me to her Romano."

They ran up the stairs to the apartment as Lovino babbled about her condition."She's been ill since yesterday! Her fever won't break, and we're out of medicine. She's weak, she coughs, we don't know any doctors! I don't think she wants to go! And I tried my best! She just won't get better!"

"Romano." Antonio stopped and looked Lovino, kind, yet commanding. "Listen to me. You're a strong boy, but right now, for just a few more hours I need to you be stronger okay? Can you do that?"

Lovino gulped and nodded.

"Good. Now I will take your mother to a doctor. You have to promise me that you will do exactly as I say, okay?"

Taking a few breaths, Lovino nodded again and Antonio spared a quick squeeze on his shoulder before they ran off to the apartment.

Lovino was hoping that his mother would be sitting up in bed already, having caught his escape, but it was worse. She was still passed out on the bed, and sure enough when he ran to her, she was still burning up. He looked at Antonio helplessly, then remembered his promise and instead demanded. "Well bastardo? What now?!"

With a small, brief smile, Antonio easily picked his mother up from the bed and started walking out the door. "Now, and only if anyone asks, you're going to pretend to be my little brother for a few hours."

"WHAT?!!!"

"Now, now, my tomato princeling, remember your promise!" Antonio chirped. "Exactly as I say!"

Lovino grumbled as he followed Antonio into the taxi, then sat quietly and sullen as he realized that he was no longer frightened, not now that Antonio was there. If only he were older, he could have taken care of his mother without needing any help.

The rest of the day passed curiously. Antonio took them to the same clinic as he brought Lovino to before, except this time he spent a longer time speaking to the Doctor, who gave Lovino and his mother some searching looks. In the end apparently, his mother was going to be alright, she was simply exhausted, and in such a state, her body could not fight off even the simplest flu.

The Doctor that attended to her was an older man with salt and pepper hair, whom Antonio simply called 'Doctor. Carlos'. He seemed to know Antonio very well, at least that was how it looked to Lovino based on the numerous exasperated sighs the man gave as the excitable teenager explained the situation in dialect that Lovino could not understand.

In the end, Doctor Carlos examined his mother and declared to him, "It was a good thing that you brought her here. She needs plenty of rest. I've given her a few shots, including one to make her sleep for the next few hours. She can stay here." Lovino balled his hands into fists at the condescending tone that the Doctor was using, but he was the only one who could help his mother now, so he willed himself to ignore it. "In the meantime," Doctor Carlos continued, "I'll be prescribing some medicine. She can't work for the next few days." After a suspicious look at Antonio, the doctor disappeared, muttering something about writing up a letter.

Lovino looked at his mother sleeping peacefully and was suddenly reminded of Feliciano. From what he could remember, his little brother was a tiny version of her. Even as a baby he already had her smile, her fairer colored hair, brown eyes and lighter skin. For Lovino, it was only the general shape of his face which marked him as his mother's son, and that thought depressed him, especially after yesterday when she saw something in him that frightened her so much.

Antonio walked up behind him and pulled him to sit down on a nearby chair. "Is it just you and your mother?"

This was Antonio's serious voice, not the playing one, so Lovino answered without any fuss. "Yes. Just me and her and our apartment." He shrugged. Lovino still cast anxious eyes to the bed, unsure of how much he could tell Antonio and wondering if it was worth still keeping secrets anyway.

Thankfully, Antonio did not ask. He did however, have that look in his eyes that scared Lovino, the one he had when he was being smart and could see through any lie.

"Well," Lovino continued softly. "I did have a little brother...once." He dropped his eyes to the floor, not wanting to look at that piercing stare anymore. Lovino clenched his fists again, because he was not going to cry, not again. He saw Antonio's shoes step closer and soon, Lovino was enveloped in those familiar arms.

"I'm sorry to hear that Romano." Antonio murmured, patting his back softly.

Lovino did not say anything, he only held onto Antonio for a long time. Thankfully he did not cry. He swore that when his mother woke up, he was going to ask her about Feli, even if he kept quiet about everything else.

After a few more quiet moments passed, Antonio's cheerful voice returned. "Well my little prince, there's not going to be much for you to do if you stay here all day, she's definitely not waking up anytime soon." Antonio stepped back and smiled. "Anyway, I get the feeling that you haven't eaten yet today, and look at the time! It's picnic lunch time at our field! If we head over there now, we'll still be able to have some of that before we play! I'll bring you back here afterwards. How about that?"

Lovino looked up at that beaming face and wondered how it was possible to know so many people in his life who were impossible to turn down once they smiled. His mother knew that trick, and he suspected that Feliciano was not the idiot toddler he seemed to be. As much as Lovino still felt love for him, he remembered how that cunning baby always got his way! It must be instinct! One that he himself never inherited, and now he had Antonio who could do it as well.

Damn these smilers. Lovino gave his mother a long look, then he stood from the chair and walked out of the room.

Antonio hurried after him, waving to nurses and clinic staff as he went. It was odd how well they all seemed to know him.

"Hey Roma, you don't need to play today if you're tired, it's up to you."

"Are you kidding me bastardo?!" Lovino scoffed. "I need to run!"

With that, they made their way by bus to the familiar field, and Lovino suddenly felt nervous. He just remembered this week's significance - Mary was leaving and he had to say goodbye. Actually, he would have to say farewell to everyone, since he was sure that after today, his mother would never let him out again.

Antonio had Lovino's clothes ready as usual, and the moment they reached the field itself, Mary ran over and grabbed Lovino into a hug, making him blush furiously.

"You did find him." Francis drawled, approaching behind her next to a rather weird looking boy that Lovino had not seen before. He had ugly hair, wavy, shaggy and grown past his ears, dyed black with washed out green highlights and noticeable blonde roots. Lovino felt an immediate distaste for him, because even though they never had much, his mother always taught him to take pride in his own appearance! How could anyone step outside looking like that? And what about those thick and dark eyebrows! If Mary wasn't holding him so tight, he would have said something. Then Lovino noticed the other boy's eyes - they were a familiar shade of vivid bright green and he realized that he was finally looking at the mysterious Arthur Kirkland.

"Hello _bambino_! I'm so glad you came! I missed you yesterday!" She smiled, distracting him from her brother. Lovino awkwardly wrapped his arms around her, hoping he could in fact, disappear. Why did he blush so easily?!

"Er...um...sorry, I..." Lovino looked at his feet, before suddenly blurting out. "I'm sorry about your father!" Gasping at his own stupidity, he slapped his hands over his face. 'Stupid, stupid, stupid!'

Mary thankfully was not offended, though she was sad as she hugged him tighter. "Thanks Romano. Anyway, I'm glad that you came back today, because before we say goodbye, there's someone I want you to meet."

Lovino looked expectedly at the blonde/green/black haired boy, who scrutinized him coolly and carefully in return. Despite the dark circles under his eyes and too pale skin, Arthur Kirkland held himself with his back straight and an air of stiff superiority. Lovino's eyes drifted to Arthur's white shirt and the crest on its right – three red lions snarled within a shield, topped by a red star. There was something so familiar about the design of that shirt and the meaning of that star, except Lovino remembered something blue. Shaking his head clear, Lovino almost yelled at Arthur to say something, but Mary beat him to it.

"Do you feel like introducing your fine self sometime today little brother?" She sighed, annoyed.

Arthur spared her a brief glance, then looked somewhere behind Lovino before his eyes narrowed. Lovino turned around to see Gilbert grinning, strolling up to them with an arm casually slung around Antonio's neck. Antonio was trying to smile and failing miserably, looking more like he was baring his teeth. That feral grin, combined with a wild fury in his eyes made Lovino take a few steps back.

" _Hola corazón_!" Antonio called pleasantly. "Well, you heard your sister, how about you introduce yourself?"

Gilbert groaned and smacked Antonio on the back of the head, while Mary moved to stand in front of Antonio, shielding her brother from his view. "You promised you'd hold it together Antonio!" She yelled. "I know you both have your issues, but let's remember why Arthur is here. He has as much a right to say goodbye to his friends as I do. Besides, look at what you did. You look like a downright maniac when you smile like that you know? You've scared Romano!"

Lovino turned around before he could see what the reaction was. He looked at Arthur again, and while Gilbert, Francis, Antonio and Mary were busy behind him, the otherwise quiet Lukas had approached.

"While they're occupied, how about we play? Of course Arthur, you should refrain from starting any fires, fights or making things explode."

Lovino looked at Arthur in shock. Lukas never made jokes, which must have meant he was serious.

Arthur smirked and shrugged. "Understood. As long as the raging bull over there keeps it together, I will." He turned his eyes to Lovino and added very condescendingly, "Well Romano, let's play shall we?"

Lovino let out a breath he did not realize he was holding and was confused. How could Arthur be Mary's brother when he sounded and looked so different? Mary's words almost seemed to run together, as if she was yelling out one very long word, whereas Arthur's words were clipped and precise.

He forgot that as soon as he realized that he was going to play with someone who trained everyday without fail to be a pro! The level of this game would be different. Sure Arthur looked ugly, but still. "Bring it on eyebrows!" He yelled, running out onto the field feeling happy and excited, with the echo of Francis' laughter behind.

"What?! That little…!"

A ball was thrown into play and the game began. What followed was the most intense game Lovino ever played. Arthur Kirkland was good, really good, and the game was less of a game and more of a lesson. Lovino was resentful because football was supposed to be fun, not full of lectures, but he could not stop listening because it was impossible to ignore Arthur yelling out instructions throughout the game in that obnoxiously loud voice of his:

"Play with your head up Romano! Don't look up for teammates only after you get the ball!"

"Plan your passes out Romano! If you know what's going on, that won't be a problem!"

"A team Romano! You're playing on a team! Pass the ball! Lukas was wide open just now but you didn't know that did you! You're not keeping your head up!"

"For God's sake all of you! He's a kid but that doesn't mean you all have to play like kids as well! Challenge him! Just make sure you don't tackle or hurt him!"

"Romano! Watch me and learn how to handle larger opponents! Hey! Watch! Matthias come here!"

They had to deal with Arthur yelling and issuing orders throughout the game, which was quite impressive, considering that he was constantly running as well. Lovino was jealous. One, Lovino had no idea what Arthur was talking about sometimes when he referred to other players and teams (Lovino assumed they were professional) and two, he had become so used to being the best on the field that meeting someone obnoxiously better was annoying. But he could not doubt that he was learning a lot.

At half time Lovino sat on the sloped grassy hill that overlooked the field, observing Arthur practicing free kicks against Gilbert. Arthur managed to score about half the shots so far. It was the only time he saw Gilbert concentrating so hard. Whenever Lovino had to go against Gilbert, he tended to score out of luck than actual skill. He was starting to feel extremely insignificant.

"Relax Romano," Antonio's came behind him, calm now and offering water. Lovino drank it greedily. "Remember my tomato princeling, Arthur's fourteen, Gilbert's sixteen and he'll be joining a club once he returns to Germany and you're nine. Rather precocious and well coordinated for your age, but still a kid. Arthur wasn't as good as you are now when he was ten."

Lovino wanted to bask in that praise but found that he could not. Instead he asked Antonio. "How is he doing that?"

Antonio shrugged as he settled down next to Lovino. "Arthur scoring? It's simple. Arthur's been practicing free kicks for years. Every kick Arthur makes is aimed precisely. Don't forget, he's had Mary at home to play and compete against, and when he decided that football would be his thing well, he studied everything about it. He watches and rewatches games, spends hours studying them, pours over football history, coaches, techniques....argh! It's maddening, he has a talent for turning something that's fun for most people into another chore but anyway. That's how he scores off Gilbert, notice how his shots curve at the end. Arthur got that from studying David Beckham."

When it was clear that Lovino had no idea who that was, Antonio raised his eyebrows curiously and continued to explain.

"Look at his shots. The ball doesn't travel to where you think it's going to right? It's really useful for corner kicks. He's trying to trick Gilbert every time with misdirection. No worries though, Gilbert's a wall when he feels like it, that's why he's got a spot in the youth system."

Lovino looked down, glum. There would be no football school or youth system for him. In fact there was nothing in his future that he knew about, only eventually helping out his mother and protecting her from…whatever.

"Don't look so glum my little tomato!" Antonio laughed, moving to ruffle Lovino's hair.

"Hey!" Lovino protested. "Stop that! Don't mess up my hair! Why do you always do that?!"

"I can't help it! You have this one stubborn curl…"

"DON'T TOUCH MY HAIR!"

"Now now enfants, Antonio, let the boy rest hmm?" Francis sauntered up next to them, giving Lovino the customary seeking glance.

Lovino huffed and turned away, trying to ignore the discomforting French boy. "Hey Antonio, why do you hate that Arthur guy so much?"

Francis looked heavenward and Antonio only scrutinized Lovino's face carefully, a sad expression on his face. "That is…quite the story Romano. But not for today. Some other time when I'm ready to tell you okay?"

Lovino was about to protest but Antonio rarely ever looked sad or angry, and he had been both today. So rather than hitting him or insulting him, Lovino only 'humpfed' and turned back to the half-time show.

The break was a long one as usual, to allow Lovino to catch his breath. He couldn't wait until he was older and able to exert himself like the others. He took extra care to memorize everyone's faces and their field. Then he wondered if there was any small chance that he could still see Antonio, since he clearly helped them earlier today. It was hard to tell, but Lovino wanted at least one part of this field to stay with him, even if he were forbidden to return. As if reading Lovino's mind, a big hand settled on his shoulder, comforting. When Lovino looked up, it was to Antonio's smiling face, encouraging and patient.

Then it was time to play again, so Lovino played and Arthur coached and Lovino learned to be terrified of Mary's brother. Finally at the end of the game, Arthur took his shirt off and approached Lovino, who had decided to lie down on the grassy hill.

"First off," Arthur said, "The worst thing you can do for yourself after running around as much as you did, is to collapse in a heap like you just have, so sit up."

Lovino grumbled and didn't want to move, but Antonio lifted him up, pointedly not looking at Arthur.

"Second…" he waited for Lovino to look at him. When Lovino did, Arthur paused, like he had forgotten what he was about to say. When he did speak again, it was with a careful tone, not quite as strict as he had been all day. "Second, I hope you continue playing here over the next summer and that you…trust this group. Even without me or Gilbert here, they'll train you up and care for you."

Annoyed and scared, Lovino shot out "Train me for what?!"

Arthur ignored the question and held out his shirt instead, which was soaked in sweat and in all the wrong colors. "Take this. It's for you."

Lovino opened his eyes wide in surprise. He knew once again from some unknown place in his mind that this act was significant. Instinctually, he started to pull his own shirt off but Arthur and Antonio's joint surprised laughter stopped him.

"What is it you idiots?" Lovino demanded just as they two older boys stopped.

Arthur gave Antonio a strange look before looking back gently at Lovino. "Nothing Romano, it's just that I couldn't steal away your clothes, you need to wear it home."

Amazingly, still ignoring Arthur, it was Antonio who responded. "No worries princeling! I have your clean shirt in the bag." He suddenly picked Lovino up and gave him a bear hug. "Ah! You're so cute you know that Romano?! Such an adorable little tomato!!"

"Ack! Let go stupid! This is embarrassing!" Eventually Lovino managed to wriggle his way out of Antonio's arms and huffed as he stood up, holding his shirt out to Arthur.

Chuckling, Arthur took it, and they exchanged jerseys. "Thanks Romano." He eyed the plain navy blue children's Nike dry-fit shirt that he had just received and smiled. "I'll keep this. You keep yours, and you and I will meet again."

With that declaration, Arthur nodded once at Antonio and walked off to where the rest of the group gathered around Gilbert's beer. From the back, Lovino could see his tattoos clearly - the dragon that peeked out from the top of his shorts, its head at Arthur's hip and waist, the rest of its body hidden. On one shoulder was a running lion, snarling and backed by thorny roses. Lovino stared, transfixed, part of him wondering how loud his mother would scream if he ever thought of getting a tattoo, another part of his mind wondered about Mary's own collection but most of all, he wondered about this mystery that was Arthur Kirkland - a well spoken boy, a dedicated student and passionate teacher who also apparently, put a lot of effort into looking like an absolute mess and blew things up. It was hard to imagine that this boy was real! Could Lovino dedicate himself to something the way Arthur had? It was too much work.

Gilbert and Mary burst on the scene not long after, distracting him from his worries.

Happy and blushing, holding a can of beer in one hand, Gilbert picked Lovino up and gave him a big one-armed hug. "Little man! You are going to have it easy next year without the AWESOME me defending goal! I know you're going to cry because you're about to be bereft of the most AWESOME goalie to ever be born! But don't cry Romano! You'll see me again one day, I'll autograph the posters you buy of me! Just don't get lazy!"

Mary laughed as she took Lovino from Gilbert, enveloping him in a hug.

"Oh I'm gonna miss you, you adorable little _bambino_! And take care of that shirt okay? That was Arthur's favorite. Most importantly though, take care of yourself. Don't get into any trouble." With a kiss to Lovino's cheek, Mary too walked away to say goodbye to the others, Gilbert following behind her.

Lovino sat in silence for a while, holding and contemplating the shirt that Arthur gave him. He fingered the red-bordered crest and the three snarling lions within and the red star. Antonio was content to sit by Lovino, making sure that he drank water and didn't get too pensive.

"Antonio." Lovino finally whispered.

"Yes little prince, what is it?"

"What does this star mean?"

Antonio looked at Lovino in surprise, and Lovino wanted to punch himself for not knowing something so obvious. He braced himself for the invasive questions to begin again but surprisingly, Antonio simply answered Lovino's question.

"Well, just as Mary was born in Scotland and spent most her years there with her father, Arthur was born in England and mostly grew up there with his mother. He's very proud to be English, and they're one of the more well-known national football teams. This jersey, is of the same design that the English team wore at the last World Cup in South Africa."

Lovino tried to think back to his mother's geography lessons, the blank world map she once made him fill in. He had written 'Italia' over the familiar peninsula and left the rest blank.

"Well the star above the shield means that England is a former World Cup victor. They won a long time ago, I forget the date. They're otherwise a pretty pathetic team nationally. If you see the yellow and green jersey for Brazil, there'll be five stars. And the blue for Italy…"

"FOUR!" Lovino suddenly yelled. The memory of the Azzuro from his dreams with four white stars suddenly came crashing back at him clearly. "Italia has won the Cup four times!"

Antonio looked down at him shrewdly, scaring Lovino again. There was a calculative look on Antonio's face, trying to figure out the mystery that was this boy who appeared from nowhere and had such an interesting, selective knowledge of the world. It almost scared Lovino as well that with access to his mother, Antonio had the means uncovering that mystery, including details Lovino did not know, and who knew what he would do with it?

"Yes Romano, you're right. I should have known you'd know that. Italy's jersey has four stars above the crest." Antonio placed a hand on Lovino's shoulder, scrutinizing him closely, eyes narrowing. Lovino looked away pretending to study the lions on Arthur's shirt instead.

After what felt like a long time, Antonio happy announced. "And as you know! Spain has one star! It was amazing Lovi! I didn't tell you last time that I was one of the guys celebrating on the streets to welcome the team back did I?!" He pulled Lovino up and took the white shirt. Lovino desperately tried to grab it back.

"Give it back!" Lovino was afraid that Antonio would trash the shirt or burn it since he hated Arthur so much, but Antonio only smiled back.

"I thought didn't want to bring anything from here home? That's why I pack you extra clothes isn't it?"

Lovino stopped fighting and looked down suddenly, "Oh…yes." He reluctantly released the jersey.

Antonio sighed, crouching on his knees in front of Lovino, as he did when he was serious and trying to be comforting. "Hey, I'm not going to ruin it. I promise you. I'll bring it home for you, wash it and I'll keep it together with all your other things in my room. If you want, I'll even bring it back when we start our league again next year for you to wear. How about that my tomato? Will you join us again here next year?"

Lovino shrugged. "Well actually, now that I think about it, I do want that jersey. I only didn't want to wear my sports clothes home before because I didn't want Mama to find out. But, she's going to know after today so...I may not be able to join next year and if that's the case, I want to keep the shirt."

Antonio looked thoughtful for a moment, calculating something in his mind, even as a smile curled on his lips. "Would it help if I spoke to your mother Romano?" he finally asked.

"I don't know bastardo, I really don't." Lovino sighed.

Pulling out his phone, Antonio looked at the time. "Well, we need to head back to the clinic anyway and I'll have to tell your mother everything Doctor Carlos said. We may as well talk about you playing with us. Maybe I can win her trust." Then he pulled a warm and charming smile.

Lovino frowned at this sight, grabbing Arthur's jersey back from him, because if Antonio thought that his smiles would fool his mother, there was no way Lovino would see Antonio again.

Why did that thought make him feel so lost?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As this story takes place in 2013, Arthur isn't wearing the more recent red English jersey, and Antonio still has bragging rights over the Spanish national team.
> 
> Yes, sadly it's still possible to die from the flu in this day and age if your body is overworked an exhausted. Your immune system simply can't keep up.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Antonio confronts the mysterious Mrs. Vargas. Pasts are revealed, some answers provided.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings about this chapter: Domestic violence and abandonment.

"Football? My dear Antonio Fernadez Carriedo, you think I would be happy to let you continue to watch over my boy because, in your opinion, he's made for football?"

"No, senora, that's not-"

"Firstly my boy is more than some child who kicks a ball around. He will be more than that. I'm also going to let you know right now exactly what I think about that game. It's a farce, and it ruins people. It's an excuse for thousands of lost souls who have no identity, hobbies or better things to do to come together and have an overall excuse to hate their neighbors just because they wear different colors. Don't even get me started on the overpaid players themselves who actually spend most of their energy worrying about which underwear to model. It isn't a game, it's a business and it's run by criminals who like nothing better than to ruin people. Do you understand me Antonio? Football ruins people!"

Lovino silently stood outside the door, listening to his mother's tirade. Antonio had finally taken Lovino back to his mother, and she was awake, waiting for them. She had sent him out on a useless errand to drink water and sit outside while she spoke to Antonio, but there was no way he would let them speak about him without knowing what they planned. As he predicted, his mother was not making it easy for Antonio. He had never heard her this way before - her tone so dry, sarcastic, furious and unforgiving. But she was talking to Antonio at least, which was a good sign, or at least talking at him. One thing surprised him though, he had expected her to be angry about him being outside at all, not to hear how much she hated a sport.

Lovino felt a familiar pang in his chest. There was something about what his mother said and the way she said it, so bitterly and lost "Football...ruins people." How did a game that involved kicking a ball around destroy people? And what was that thing about underwear? So strange.

"Antonio, I am of the opinion that you just like having fun, and right now, you think that my son is some kind of fun project for you."

"Señora, I'm sorry but I have never been eloquent or good with my words. I think we understood different things when I said that I feel Romano was made for football. What I really meant was that from all the time I have spent with Romano this summer, he seems happiest to me when he is running and playing outside. I don't think I'm imagining this because he clearly makes the choice to join us almost every day when apparently he's not supposed to." He paused, taking a breath. "Look, I know that you're his mother, he clearly loves you and you have the right to raise your son as you wish, but speaking from experience as a boy who was raised mostly alone, you reach an age where you need something physical to keep your mind occupied...and you need friends too. Real friends. These two things can keep you from doing things you'll regret."

"Oh is that so? What do you regret?"

Silence.

"You seem to want me to trust you to be my son's friend. I don't need to tell you that a mother does not go to the lengths to protect her child as I have for no reason. What kind of person are you Antonio? And why should either Romano or I trust you?"

Lovino took a breath. She had caught onto Antonio's continuous use of his middle name, so at least she would know that he was also taking some precautions. It also sounded like if this conversation went the way he hoped, he would finally know why they had been living like this for the past four years. Lovino wished he could be in the room and seeing the expressions on both their faces. Their voices already sounded so different to the one that they used with him. This was their 'adult' mode then, the persons they really were when they were not trying to distract him or making decisions about him as if he had no power over his life.

"Truth señora?" Antonio laughed heartily. "Truth."

Another pause.

'Antonio you stupid idiot,' Lovino growled to himself. 'Say something that's not completely stupid!'

"Honestly, I'm a mess."

Lovino smacked his face with his palm and fell to his knees in exasperation.

"I was more of a mess though, before Romano came into my life."

That statement surprised Lovino. It was not a smart thing to say perhaps, but it was something new. He pressed his ear closer to the door.

"I grew up alone. Well, not completely, I mean I knew that I had a mother and a father. Siblings even. I also knew that my parents had many friends who were willing to look out for me, and I was placed into a boarding school with the expectation of making my own friends. Truth is, very few people meant anything to me until recently. I just didn't see the point."

"My parents were once, passionately in love. So in love, that my father was willing to give up his career and reputation to run away with my mother to South America to start a new life. It's like something out of some silly telenovela actually. My mother was already married to a Portuguese man and had a son. Yet, she left both of them to be with my father. They kept a house just outside of the city, this was meant to be a brief stopgap until they could get everything in order to run away."

Lovino could just imagine Antonio scratching the back of his head, smiling awkwardly - his nervous tick.

"I guess you can tell how this story ends. They never ran anywhere, and no one gave anything up. As a result of their affair, I was born here in Madrid. They never told me, personally what happened, but people say that the passion which fueled them both so well while they were apart, exploded once they were together and they just couldn't last after that."

Antonio's voice steadily became more intense and angry. "My mother's husband still loved her, and came to Madrid to win her back. He did and she left us both. My father carried me home to an empty house one day, lost his mind and dropped me off with Doctor Carlos before going on a mad trip around Europe, screwing-oops, pardon me señora...I mean he probably slept with any willing woman he met before returning to Madrid to make amends for all the people he pissed off when he seduced a powerful man's wife. Eventually, he had enough favors to cash in and some smart guy in the government decided to nicely exile my father away to Mexico, where he happily lives now, with his Mexican wife and my half-sister. Meanwhile I'm just a reminder of a time that they'd both rather forget about, so I'm just here...and they make sure I have money so they can continue living their lives without any guilt."

Lovino's mouth dropped, stunned. This was Antonio's story? How had he managed to leave this out when he cheerfully told him the basic facts before? It was one thing to say that his parent's didn't live in Spain, but why didn't he say that he was abandoned?

"As a result of that little trip around Europe, I have another half-sister who is Belgian, and lives in the Netherlands. But I get to see her even less than I see my other siblings because her family would also rather believe that the past never happened."

"You asked me why you should trust me and what I regret. I grew up alone because I was angry at everyone. Even though I was capable of making most people like me, I didn't trust anyone. Didn't see the point. I mean, the only thing you could trust people for is what they wanted from you, and what they could give you. Anyway, Doctor Carlos never asked to be my unofficial guardian, but because my father was his friend from childhood, he did his best. I was the worst child and teenager anyone could be cursed with. I started a gang in the neighborhood and was exiled to boarding school, where I just met a lot of other boys like me. We made quite the pretty profit off terrorizing anyone who got in our way. We're all rich boys, and we knew that no one was really going to punish us. I was a bully, that goes without saying. There's not really any excuse for all the things that I did."

Lovino stared down at the floor, disbelieving. He wanted to believe that Antonio was spinning some tragic story, like Mattias' sad fairytales, but somehow he felt that Antonio was telling the truth. It would explain how sometimes Antonio had a look in his eyes that was challenging, controlling and frightening, but mostly controlled. It would explain why Antonio tried to so hard, and greeted him with hugs each day, why he got frightened if Lovino failed to show up. This was why Antonio worked so hard to keep Lovino coming back.

"I regret the things I did, and I will never be able to make it up to the people that I hurt." Antonio continued, his voice softer now. "I think I just needed to learn how to trust someone. I was so convinced everyone would leave me that I abused their love, testing them, daring them to abandon me, and I was never satisfied even when they didn't. I hurt a lot of people whom I should have treated better."

Lovino blinked back tears because somehow all he could think of now was Feliciano. Antonio had come home with his father one day to find the house abandoned and was left as a result. Did that mean that somewhere in Italy, Feli was all alone? Angry? Convinced that no one loved him? Lovino bit his fist to muffle himself as his tears ran freely down his face.

"This is why I'm asking, no begging you señora. Let me be a part of Romano's life. Of course the circumstances aren't the same, at least he has his mother, but it cannot be easy to be a single mother, leaving him alone for most of the day. The strain has put you here in a clinic after Romano came crying to me because he failed to heal you in a day! He's not even ten years old yet and I think you agree with me that your well-being should not be his responsibility! I want to help! I don't want him to have even the smallest risk of being like me!"

It sounded more like a demand than a plea to Lovino, but he wished that his mother would just accept or dismiss Antonio already because everything was just too painful.

There was more silence beyond the door. Finally his mother spoke, not as warm as he was used to, but in a slightly gentler tone at least, "Tell me about the people you do care about. When did you begin to trust? Was it really just meeting my son?" Even though Antonio probably would not be able to tell, Lovino could hear the guilt in her voice. She must have been thinking of Feliciano as well.

"Frankly," Antonio chuckled. "It was so unexpected. I guess it started through sports. One year we played against one of the French schools and this crazy guy and I became friends. I realized that he was safe you know? Most diplomats? They stay three or four years and then they're off again. You can't be abandoned if you know when someone is about to leave, I mean there's no expectation that this person is going to stay. So I knew I could actually be friends with this kid because even if he didn't like who I was or if it turned out bad, that wasn't going to affect me for the rest of my life right? He's leaving sooner or later! It's kind of messed up, but that's how I first learned how to trust...in baby steps."

"Of course, with him came his friends, all international and temporary. And maybe it's because they know that their time is so brief in any given place, but they welcomed me with open minds and hearts. They listened and accepted, but they were also really honest with me. They weren't afraid to put me in my place if I messed up. My other friends didn't really like them because they came across as too naive and stuck up perhaps, mostly irritated at how boastful they seemed about how many places they had lived, but I liked them. I stayed around. They're the people who also love to take care of Romano. Señora, they're all good kids. Better than me in fact."

Lovino almost groaned. It figured that out of all the people Antonio would have met first from that group, it would be the exhibitionist and flamboyant Francis. It could not have been Mary, or even the comparatively sane Lukas.

"But when your son ran into me? I don't know what it was. He was just so interesting to me. So new. Then I guess, having a kid around just forces you to get your life together. You really think about everything that you do and how they see you. It's also kind of amazing how smart they are, well, Romano anyway. He's the most mature and precocious little kid I think I'll ever meet. And now? Well, I just want to make sure that he never has to be alone."

All thoughts stopped. Lovino only sat quietly, letting that last sentence ring over and over again. He never had to be alone...ever. This was too much, the shock over Antonio's history, his own devastation over Feli and the elation from Antonio's declaration came too close together to process. He wanted to smile, he wanted to cry, in the end he just hugged himself tighter, listening for whatever would come next. There was silence as his mother mulled Antonio's words and Lovino held his breath, waiting to figure out if he was staying or leaving, or whether he was ever going to be allowed to have friends in his life.

"Well Antonio, I can say that I don't trust you as much as I would like."

Lovino let out his breath, defeated and disappointed. It looked like they were leaving.

"But you're right about one thing - I can't keep my son locked up. It's not fair to him, and believe me, I never wanted to. I just didn't have an alternative..."

"Is he in danger?" Antonio quickly asked. "If you need any help, I'm sure I could-"

"If you tell any authorities about us, you will force Romano and I to disappear. I've lived here for years without having to register my son anywhere and it will stay that way. The people I'm protecting him from are best avoided by staying away from the official channels. If you wish to be my son's friend as much as you say you do Antonio, you will follow my rules. No one can know about us. I can't do anything about the rest of your football group but my son knows better than to willingly let them intimately into our lives. Since it seems to me that you forced your way in here, you can help him keep this secret, but no one else Antonio...no one else sees where we live, or gets to know anything more about my son. Just you. If I find out that you've betrayed us, we will disappear, and you will never find us again."

That was it.

Even though his mother's threat lingered ominously in the air, Lovino could not believe this little miracle. They were staying. Antonio was going to be in his life, he didn't have to be locked in anymore and he could run outside if he wanted to. He breathed out, smiling without realizing it, shaking hard because he was grateful and whispering little prayers of thanks under his breath.

More inconsequential words were traded in the room before his mother dismissed Antonio and asked him to send 'Romano' in. Quickly, Lovino sprinted to the nearest couch, lay down and feigned sleep.

He heard the door open and Antonio's footsteps slowly draw close, the older boy was chuckling, which seemed somewhat out of place considering the conversation Lovino just heard.

"You know Tomato, little princes who are actually napping don't breathe that hard, like they've just been running." Antonio whispered.

Frowning, Lovino opened his eyes as he turned and tried to glare at Antonio. He could not manage it though. He say Antonio's expression change when the older boy realized that he had been crying.

"Hey Romano, you don't need to cry okay?"

Sniffing, Romano looked away. "Don't look bastard," he choked. "I'm not crying."

Antonio gathered Romano into his arms and held him. "Nah of course not little prince. A squirrel must have been running through here with some cut onions, no?" He murmured seriously.

Lovino let out a choke of laughter. "What the fuck Antonio? Squirrels?"

"Yes, they're wily creatures." And Lovino could hear the smile curled around Antonio's lips as he said that.

Before too long, and still holding Antonio, Lovino had to ask. "How did you find me Antonio? This morning when I needed help. How did you find me?"

Antonio smiled in response, shrugging. "The old fashioned way. I just looked. After you missed yesterday's practice, I got on your bus, then got off at each stop and asked around. I stopped when it got too late and continued this morning, where I happened to find you. There's no magic to it really."

No magic, but a miracle of effort and luck. Even Lovino could understand that as he looked up at Antonio's tired eyes.

"You shouldn't keep your mother waiting little Prince." Antonio reminded kindly and he pulled away.

Lovino nodded and decided he needed another hug just before Antonio left. For the first time, he was the one to reach out, rather than wait for the older boy to do so first. He heard Antonio breathe out into a smile as he returned the hug. "You don't need to feel sorry for me Romano. I'm not alone anymore, isn't that right?"

"Don't get sappy on me Bastardo." Lovino grit out, and Antonio simply held him. They stayed that way for a little while before Lovino broke away to see his mother. With a smile and wordless goodbye, Antonio turned to leave and Lovino walked nervously to his mother's room.

She was sitting up in the bed waiting for him, relaxed against pillows with a tired smile on her face.

"Hello caro." She greeted tenderly.

Swallowing, Lovino slowly stepped inside and closed the door. He moved to hug his mother but she stopped him, a regretful look on her face.

"Not yet Lovi. You don't know how much I want to hug my little hero, but I'm still not completely recovered, and I don't want you to get sick along with me."

Frowning, but understanding her reasoning, Lovino nodded and sat on the chair next to her bed.

"What happens now Mama?" Lovino asked, somewhat surly now that the world was righting itself. "Do we go home to pack and take a bus somewhere?"

Her mother's sad gaze never left his face. "No Lovi. That would be the wise thing to do but I can't do that to you again. It already isn't fair to you that I locked you up for so long. I just...didn't have anyone that could help back then. Enough time has passed now though, if we stay discreet..." she sighed. "It's too late now anyway, we just have to take a leap of faith."

"Mama, what are we running from?!" Lovino suddenly blurted. "And where's Feli?!" He choked. "He's real right? I didn't dream him?" He had wondered that sometimes, that maybe the life he had now was real and he just made everything else up while he was younger.

His mother just looked at him, her face devastated and mouth forming a small 'o', before grabbing him suddenly and hugging him fiercely, illness be damned. He shifted so he was on the bed with her, clutching her tight.

"My dear, dear Lovi." she sniffed. "I don't deserve your love. I don't think there's anything I can possibly do from now on to make it up to you, what I have done."

"Mama! Don't say that!"

With a deep sigh, she looked down at him and started telling him parts of the story. "I'm not ready to tell you everything, but one day I promise you will know all of what happened, and my reasons. Well, you'll know my part of the story anyway. For now Lovi, I want to say that yes, you have a little brother and he is safe. My original plan of course, was for the three of us to stay together, but I couldn't quite manage that on the day itself."

Lovino lay quiet on the bed, holding his mother and thinking about what life would have been like for them if she had two small children to deal with. It could have been a disaster or it could have been better. He would not have been as lonely - it was something new he had just noticed when Antonio told his story earlier, that he, Lovino, had been lonely. He opened the door to his apartment because he was tired of being locked up, but he continued going because the emptiness was too much. If Feliciano had grown up with him, would they have both stayed locked up, content with each other's company? Or would they have escaped to the field together? It was impossible for him to know because he had no idea who Feli was beyond the toddler he remembered. Feli was a happy baby, always laughing and trying to talk. He would mash his tiny hands into his gooey food and try to draw on Lovino's face, then burst into copious tears when Lovino yelled at him (or whenever he could not get his way for that matter) but even these memories were hazy, and Lovino doubted their accuracy.

"Is he still in Italy Mama?"

"Yes." she responded, patting his back.

Taking a deep breath and closing his eyes, Lovino finally asked. "Where's Papa?"

He felt his mother's body stiffen and he saw her opposite hand, resting on the bed clench into a tight fist. However, she did not answer his question directly. "Papa was lost Lovi," she sighed. "He lost himself and couldn't come back."

Lovino stayed quiet, hoping that his mother would understand that he needed to know more than just that. A tension built up in the room but his mother made no move to leave or change the subject. She would answer eventually.

"Lovi, it's hard for me to explain what happened to you now. I pray that when

you're older I have the wisdom to do so fairly. But I need you to understand something," she cupped his face and turned it up to look at her directly. He could see the tears threatening to fall from her eyes, and she was trying very hard to smile. "I need you to understand that both your father and I love you. You also need to know that I fell in love your father from the first moment I saw him, and it was the same for him."

Lovino must have looked a little incredulous at that statement because his mother let out a small chuckle.

"I'm serious Lovi! I'll be honest, he did have a reputation for being a difficult man, and he could be, but to those whom he decided to give his love to, he was passionately devoted to them. It was the same with everything else in his life. He loved playing ball, he loved cooking, he was a child of both Naples and Sicily, even though he ended up in Rome. He loved you and Feli above all of this. He did. He took one look at you after you were born and named you 'Lovino' for 'Love', because he loved you so much, he prayed that no matter what happened to you and where you went, that you would always be near those who would give you all the love in their world! And he named Feliciano as he did because he was so happy that he hoped Feli would always be happy...for the joy that he brought with him."

"I thought I was named after you Mama."

She smiled at that, because he knew that her maiden name was Lavinia Silvio. It was also a distant memory though, because in Spain she used her middle name Angela, and her married name; Vargas. She shrugged, "I suppose that could be part of the story as well."

"So why did...why did we leave him? Mama did...did Papa hurt you?" He remembered her bruises and scars and the small hints of this dropped throughout the years. Now he needed confirmation.

His mother looked at him carefully, as if gauging how she would answer next. Finally she let out a breath and a short, honest answer. "Yes, he did."

Lovino shot up from the bed, furious. "I'LL KILL HIM!" He screamed. Now he felt an all consuming flame and he needed to destroy something, anything, to hurt the world for what had happened to his mother, for the reality of his father betraying the otherwise idealistic and happy dreams which had kept him going all these years. All his feelings of helplessness came back to him, the memories of begging his mother to see a doctor, living shut out from the world for so many years, all because some bastard who convinced his mother that he loved her harmed her the most. Lovino forgot everything, he just felt that only vengeance could quench this over-engulfing rage, only justice. "I'LL KILL HIM!" He screamed again.

"No Lovi! No!"

He tried to jump off the bed but his mother grabbed him and held him tight.

"Let me go Mama! I'll kill him! I'll kill him! I'll kill him!"

Footsteps ran down the hallway and the door burst open. Doctor Carlos ran in looking shocked before running over to try to help, but his mother called out. "It's okay Doctor! It's okay!"

He looked over the scene disbelievingly, "Are you sure?!"

"Yes! Please just give me more time with my son. I'm sorry for all this trouble."

"No...of course it's no trouble it's just...are you sure...?"

"WHAT ARE YOU GONNA DO ABOUT IT YOU USELESS PIECE OF SHIT?! ARE YOU GONNA PROTECT MY MOTHER?! GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE!" Lovino screamed in Italian to Doctor Carlos' confusion. There was a roaring in his ears, a red haze at the edge of his vision when suddenly a sweet voice cut through the roar...his mother was singing...soothing. The roaring started to die down, and his vision cleared as well. He focused on breathing, suddenly feeling like he needed air, and all the while, his mother crooned, running a soothing hand up and down his back. Closing his eyes, he buried his head in his arms and cried in shame. "I'm sorry Mama." He whispered.

She hugged him in response. "What else" she asked.

He looked reluctantly at Doctor Carlos. "I'm sorry Doctor."

"My son is very protective of me," she smiled across at the Doctor. "Righteous anger runs in my family, don't worry."

The doctor looked at the two of them, concerned for a moment before letting out a breath. "Don't worry, you never saw Antonio as a child. Now that was rage...and it burned constantly until he learned how to manage it...just knock on my door when you're ready to leave." He said kindly.

"You're too kind Doctor."

When Doctor Carlos left, Lovino looked at his mother ashamed. "You said anger runs in the family. I'm like...him aren't I? I even look like him."

She smiled, a sudden haughty expression coming upon her face. "What?! No! You look like me! Both you and Feli look like me and don't let anyone say otherwise!" She declared proudly.

When that failed to bring a smile to his face, she caressed his cheek. "I shouldn't have told you that." she sighed. "I can't do anything right it seems. No Lovi, it's not just him, it's me too. You get it from both sides of the family. Do you remember your Nonno at all? My father?"

Lovino scrunched up his face, trying to remember. "No Mamma, sorry."

"There's nothing you need to be sorry for. I think you only ever saw him as a baby. He never approved of the Vargas family, and they never approved of me, so we mostly kept to ourselves. But the point is, he was mostly a cheerful and positive family man...but when he got angry Lovi. It was always over something that he fully believed in, and it was focused, righteous anger. He taught me that we Silvios need to manage, contain and redirect our anger through expression - art, football, hobbies of any kind. That's how I discovered my joy of painting. Whereas from what I could understand, anger was always encouraged as an inescapable emotion in the Vargas family. They learned to live with it in everyday life and it fuelled them, helped them survive very difficult circumstances, helped them to defeat their enemies. They felt that anger enabled you to make it in this very unforgiving world."

"Your anger just now came from a positive place - you want to protect me. It doesn't help I suppose that I entrapped you. I never really taught you how to manage it properly. So let's begin here Lovi, the next time you feel this angry I want you to think about what good your future violence would do. It will not change the past, and it will not make the world right. It would actually make me very sad if you hated your father, because I know that he loves you."

"I don't care! How could he hurt you? You said he loved you!"

She sighed, hurt and apologetic. "He once did Lovi. He gave up almost everything for me. He gave up his family for me, and that was unforgivable in their eyes. But love is not a single or easy answer. It also needs to be approached with caution, honesty and hard work. We were very young and very stupid. We expected too much from each other. We couldn't handle the pressure."

"I don't see how this means that he can hurt you Mama!" Lovino demanded.

"You're right of course Lovi. He did hurt me, and he never should have. That is why I left and brought you with me even though I sometimes thought I should have stayed and helped him. But, I couldn't take it anymore. If you decide that you cannot forgive him for that, then that is up to you. But he never hurt you, and I think if you really thought back hard enough, you have no bad memories of him do you?"

Lovino thought hard, hoping to find a bad memory. He could not find one. "No." He finally bit out, but that did not mean that he would ever forgive that man for this.

Taking both his cheeks in her hands, she gently made him face her again. When he did, he could see how serious she was. "Lovi it is very important to me that this knowledge does not make you ashamed of who you are. You're not him, or me for that matter, you're you. My Lovino Romano Vargas is a good boy, a very smart boy and a loving and caring one as well. I've tried to do my best to raise you on certain values in a protected environment because I want you to be certain of who you are when you do go out into the world. I too, have made many mistakes Lovi, and not just because of your father. Our actions are ours alone, and they have nothing to do with your life, or Feli's life. Your life is your own, to live as you will in a way you feel you can be proud of. Please promise me that you will always remember that."

He nodded, repeating her words to himself in his head. 'Your life is your own...' but that also begged the question, where was his life leading? He was too tired to ask, so he held her instead.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lovino needs to learn more about the world...and meets a new rival thanks to Antonio's friends from his past - three dedicated footballers from Argentina, Uruguay and Chile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't write a football AU Hetalia fic without including Latin America and Africa. That would be sacrilegious. 
> 
> Speaking of sacrilege, no, I didn't forget Brazil, he's not in Madrid because he's going through the youth system in his own country.
> 
> The brief characterizations of Cameroon and Ivory Coast are mostly OC. Cameroon has barely appeared and Ivory Coast is not a Hetalia character (unless I missed him/her?). Latin American characters are of course, borrowed from the Latin Hetalia community (with the exception of Antonio's brief mentions of his younger sister - Mexico) - thanks to LH for making such amazing characters!

"Did you know my Tomatito, that once upon a time, no one in Europe ate tomatoes! Can you imagine? Think of everything you eat now with tomatoes as ingredients, and think of what they would taste like if tomatoes did not exist! Thanks to Mexico and the Spanish conquistadors, tomatoes made the long journey over the Atlantic Ocean to arrive back here and guess who was the first country other than Spain to fall in love with the tomato?" The gleeful stare that Antonio fixed on Lovino made the answer rather obvious, but Lovino knew that this was the point. Since Antonio became his tutor on all his lessons, the teenager had learned quickly that if he could not tie a lesson to something that naturally interested Lovino, he would be ignored all day.

Lovino let out a sigh, and looked forlornly out the window. Outside the sun was shining, even though he knew that the temperature had dropped. Today, just as with every other day, strangers outside walked about, focused on whatever occupied them. He rarely saw children his own age, but he figured that they were stuck with homework as well, having finished at school. Lovino took solace in the fact that somewhere out there, other kids his age were also mostly trapped on a chair, staring onto a flat piece of paper on a textbook while some unfortunate older person tried very very hard to capture their attention.

"Well Principito?" Antonio prodded, looking somewhat concerned that he had lost his only student somewhere again. "Would you like to wager a guess?"

"Lovino shrugged, still stubbornly looking at the window. "I don't know bastard, that all depends...what are we betting on?"

Behind him, he could hear Antonio letting out a breath, either of exasperation or amusement, Lovino had no idea, and he did not care. He just wanted to go outside. He missed the days when he spent most the week running, having the ball as his friend, jealously guarding it from others and fighting to get it back when they took it. He also missed the initial freedom that all his mother's revelations had brought.

After that rather dramatic end to the summer, Lovino was amazed to find that life actually did get better. His mother was more relaxed and smiled more often. As a result, they worried less about each other. With the truth being broached, it was almost like floodgates opened for Lovino and everything he had felt and experienced over the last summer came spilling out. He sometimes wondered if his mother became annoyed at him for making so much noise whenever she was home, but if anything, despite her clear weariness, she loved his sudden talkativeness. She was content to listen, smile at him adoringly and giggle at occasional points. However, she listened but never told the rest of her story. Her work hours did not seem to change, and neither did their circumstances. And so, Lovino found he often sat at home again with nothing to do but stare at the dull walls and resist her expectation that he do his homework.

It was only Antonio unfailingly showing up every afternoon after his own school session, which prevented Lovino from escaping onto the streets again to discover something new.

"Well...we're almost done with this history chapter about Spain and Latin America. In fact, if we focus for the next hour and a half, we could just stop here and finish early, AND I'll have time to take you out today like I meant to." Antonio offered.

"That caught Lovino's attention. They could go out? He whipped his head around and glared at a rather smug looking Antonio. "Bastard. You had better mean it! And we better be going somewhere good."

Antonio leaned back in his chair, smiled and shrugged nonchalantly, knowing that he had won. "I promise you!" He declared, hand on heart. "When have our field trips ever disappointed Romano? I'll take you to a place that I know you'll enjoy. But we have to finish on time, or we won't have the chance to see everything, and you have to promise me that you'll only go there when I can be with you."

"What?!" Lovino shot back. "What kind of a deal is that?! You've got everything! How am I supposed to know I'll actually enjoy this place? And why do you have to be with me all the damn time!"

Antonio's smile disappeared and he raised his hands defensively. "Hold on Romano! I'm sorry alright, I really am, but in order to be able to be here, I made a few promises to your mother, you know that."

Lovino shot up and stomped over to the window in a huff. Yes, he knew about Antonio's promises. At the time he had felt grateful to the older boy that he was willing to take on such a burden in his life just to be Lovino's friend. Now he found himself wishing that Antonio could have fought harder, even harder than he already did.

It was sometimes difficult to connect that serious teenager standing his ground against his mother with the mostly laughing and oblivious fool of a tutor who turned up everyday, but Antonio it seemed, never made sense or did things halfway.

Antonio had won some concessions - Lovino was no longer to be locked in, but Antonio had to accompany him if he went out, which meant that he was still stuck at home when Antonio was in school. Since Antonio tended to have to tutor him as well, that meant more hours sacrificed from 'outside' time and they often never went out at all, except to museums or other lesson related places. On top of that, Antonio tutored Lovino in the Spanish curriculum, leaving his weekends to his mother to fill up what she called their 'cultural time' so he would not forget Italy. They both seemed desperate to teach him as much as possible. One of the fights they had was that Lovino was apparently behind other children his age when it came to textbook knowledge. All this pressure to learn, learn and learn some more in the most static way possible almost drove him crazy. He felt hopeless at everything, and often refused to bother with it.

Language days would stay the same, and here Lovino had been mad at Antonio for weeks, because now that he was comfortable speaking Italian, Spanish and English, his lessons would focus more on writing and composition. While the Italian portion relied a lot on his mother, Antonio took the opportunity to learn the basics of the language, but it was never enough to seriously help Lovino. Antonio however, had managed to convince his mother to allow a pen-pal arrangement with Mary for English, as long as she sent the letters to Antonio's address. Lovino actually hated that too, since he was sure that Mary had better things to do than to read the grammatically terrible and simple scrawlings of a child.

Lovino's letters to Mary were always embarrassing for him, but she was certainly easier to understand in writing, and always encouraging. It was always a challenge, figuring out what she wrote back to him, because she wrote differently from the way she spoke. The effect of her writing on him was strong with how much they revealed. When he did decipher her words, he learned a lot about Scotland, and British fairy tales, which she used to describe hiking trips out into the woods. He felt like he was seeing these places and things she described, rather than just reading them.

It turned out that after the funeral, Mary and Arthur found solace through camping for the rest of their break. Somehow, being disconnected from civilization, media and especially well-meaning, sympathetic, but unwelcome people made them closer to themselves, the very nature of the lands they came from, and by extension, each other and their late father.

_"I hope that one day, you'll be able to spend some time in the quiet and solitude that only nature can provide to you. When you find that the world is too contradictory, unnecessarily complicated and too damned full of noise, get out there. It's only there that you can really learn to fall back in love with yourself through the very soul of your country, your body and voiceless silence. It is only with these that you can hear the ancient rocks in the mountains call to you, or let the flow of a wild river soothe you, and allow the whisper of green leaves and grass to encourage the growth of your own wisdom. I'm sure you think I'm crazy Bambino, but a little crazy is always good. Sometimes, when everyone else thinks you're crazy, you're the only one that's actually making any sense."_

She was right, these words made no sense to him, but because of how unexpectedly serious it sounded, they stayed with him. He was a little surprised that she and Arthur went into the woods together. Even though she never wrote anything about it directly, Lovino got the sense that Mary's relationship with her brother was extraordinarily complicated and not always good, perhaps as much as he would imagine Antonio's relationship was with his half-siblings. It made him wonder about the reality of having a sibling, rather than what he occasionally imagined it could be.

Other than such rare and almost philosophical insights, she wrote that Arthur achieved his wish and earned his way into a youth system. Since he was not sixteen, he was not signed onto any contracts yet, but it was only a matter of time. He was doing well in Manchester United, which apparently meant something because Antonio gave a cynical smirk at the news before shrugging and saying "Good for him I guess."

She had also started up a band and with every new letter, it seemed that the name changed. Pity, he was fond of the original name: The Left Hand of Darkness...even if it was rather long and hardly made any sense to him. It just sounded like a song title, and was very Mary.

Speaking of music, that was the subject he actually enjoyed, in the midst of everything else. Antonio took it upon himself to teach Lovino music, dance and the guitar. He actually found that he enjoyed music, and it was surprisingly technical, but that and dancing allowed him to move his body and give him a sense of freedom. However, it could not replace what he really missed - football.

His mother was adamant that Antonio was not allowed to speak about professional football to Lovino, or even think about taking him to a game or talent scout. Of course Lovino could not be kept wholly ignorant. He lived in Madrid, the home city to three major teams and a slew of other minor ones. Its most popular team of course, was Real Madrid. Even without a TV, computer, smartphone or a tablet, he was going outside now with more comfort and frequency. The Real Madrid crest was everywhere, not counting the game days when it felt like almost everyone in the city dressed in white, black and blue. On those days, there was no going out at all, and Antonio was not allowed to visit. Antonio fought the hardest to have his mother grudgingly accept that her son could play ball informally in public areas, but only with Antonio nearby, and they had to come home right after. If anyone approached them about Lovino getting formal training, the answer would always be no.

Other than that, Antonio won the battle for a cheap laptop in the apartment 'for purely educational purposes' but only as long as it was never connected to the internet. Lovino hated the damn thing. He felt like it was mocking him, sitting there with that stupid keyboard he still couldn't use properly and that didn't even know the alphabet! If that wasn't enough there was that ever present learning expected of him sitting that bright screen. Most heatedly, Antonio felt that he won the argument for Lovino to start school under the name Romano Fernandez by the next school year. This meant that Lovino had a little less than a year, including summer, to get ready. The thought made his palms sweaty and he refused to accept that he was nervous, but what was he supposed to do? Lovino never had friends his age, or had to deal with structured days, and why did he have to learn Spanish history, Spanish language or go to school in Spain?! What was stopping them from changing their name and returning to Italy?

"What is she so afraid of anyway?" Lovino muttered to the window. It wasn't soft enough because he heard Antonio sigh in response.

"I tried to find out for you Roma, but she refused to give me any clue. She said the less I knew the better, and safer. But come on, I'm not bad company am I, Tomatito?!" He smiled.

Lovino rolled his eyes as he looked back. "Do you really wanna hear the honest answer to that bastard?"

Antonio only laughed merrily in response. "Seriously Roma," he eventually responded. "We finish this history chapter today and spend the rest of our time out. What do you say?"

Lovino walked back to slump in his chair. "Italy." He said.

"Huh?"

"You asked me which other country went crazy for tomatoes dumbass. Italy."

Antonio relaxed, turning back to tutoring. "Very good my Tomatito! Now let's look at this map..."

* * *

 

Two hours later and Lovino was getting used to the chilly air, wrapped up in his jacket, gloves and other clothes that Antonio had pulled out after rummaging through the closet. Curiously, Antonio also tossed a fresh set of clothes into a bag before they headed off. It was November, and it was winter in Madrid. Antonio told him that some some parts in the north of Spain were high in the mountains and experienced more snow and freezing temperatures, but Lovino had never known winters outside of Madrid or his old home in Rome, so this was plenty cold for him. He was almost jogging along at Antonio's side, trying to keep up with the longer stride. It was a miracle that Antonio never crashed into anything considering that he was focused on his phone, furiously tapping on the screen with his fingers as he led Lovino to the bus and finally the metro to...wherever it was they were going.

"I still don't believe this game of yours exists! It's too crazy!" Lovino yelled over the clanking noise of the crowd. Lovino hated the metro, but Antonio insisted on making him take it so he could become familiar with crowds. Lovino was certain he would ever grow to like being in the middle of so many people. They scared him, and he had to swat greedy hands away from Antonio's pockets more than once, earning a glare from the supposed thief. As a former pickpocket himself, he knew what to look out for. Too bad the stupid teenager never noticed how often Lovino saved his wallet. On top of having to concentrate on their safety, Antonio insisted on distracting him with an unlikely story about an impossible ancient game. If this sport were real, it made every other look like it was made for wusses.

"Haha! It's not my game! It's Meso-American, and it was indeed crazy my Tomato. That's why it was so popular! I took real skill to knock a four kilo ball off your hip into a tiny ring hanging above you! Imagine the frenzy you'd feel inside, how ecstatic and blessed, if you managed to do that! I mean, we already love it when we score a goal by just kicking a ball into this huge net, even if it is protected by one guy."

Lovino looked up skeptically from where he stood, squished next to Antonio. "More like luck, IF anyone were crazy enough to play that game." Well, badass was the true word to describe an athlete who was capable of doing that on purpose, repeatedly, or maybe an iron-man.

"Well Romano," Antonio smiled hopefully. "I think you'll realize one day that people are capable of the craziest things if they're dedicated enough." He ruffled Lovino's hair only to have his hand smacked away. "Especially you Tomatito!"

Lovino frowned and looked around him, hoping that by being angry and strong enough, it could chase away the anxiousness and fear that was rapidly trying to pump its way through his chest. "Where are we going today? You know the squares are full in the evening."

Antonio only winked in response before the train slowed and he chirped "This is our stop!"

It was a popular stop, because a crowd of people surged out even as many more tried to surge in. Lovino clung to Antonio (swearing to himself he would deny that forever), afraid of getting separated from him and lost in the crowd. Antonio reached out and kept a firm grip on Lovino's shoulder, so Lovino looked down, hiding his red face, ashamed at how weak he was that he relied so much on Antonio. The older boy's grip gave Lovino such a comfortable sense of security against the threat of so many people - it was embarrassing.

Lovino only looked up when he sensed they were back outside in the crisp and chilly air again. Going into the center of Madrid never ceased to amaze him. The first time Antonio took him out to see one of the many museums, his jaw had dropped. It was almost impossible to believe that they were in the same city. Until then he knew Madrid to be filled with dull, square apartment blocks, but here...here he could understand why Antonio felt such love and pride for his country. Madrid's architecture was grand, elegant, old and he felt that those buildings stared down smugly at the millions of people still living, breathing and never sleeping on its streets. This was a city that was proud of its age and history, built to showcase once lavish glory. Its wide streets and squares, populated by beautiful statues commemorating different aspects of Spain's history had finally made Lovino realize just how old this city was. In some ways, it struck him as familiar. Based on the pictures Antonio had found of Rome to show him, Lovino simply knew that the city of his own birth must stand with the same pride, and it made him long to stand in Rome's squares, gaze upon those buildings instead and remake all his blurry memories of his home for new and clear ones.

Taking a quick look around, Lovino noted that it was early evening and waited. When he stilled, Madrid lit up - lights illuminated the front facades of buildings, people seemed to move with more energy and Antonio...Antonio looked truly alive. It was not yet dark, and with the lights bouncing off his tanned skin, the combined effect of the odd transition of the day made him appear to glow. He seemed taller, prouder, green eyes flashing in barely controlled excitement, that edge to his smile now almost dangerous. Antonio was on fire, great, warm, and frighteningly overwhelming. Lovino felt warm standing next to him, observing how passerby's also seemed drawn to Antonio's presence, and wondering at that careless charisma. It was amazing, and confusing all at once, never making sense to Lovino, how Antonio lit up like a flame whenever he stood in the centre of his city.

Suddenly, those green eyes met his hazel ones, widening with concern. "Do I have a stain Tomatito? Is that why you're staring at me?" He asked, breaking the spell.

"What?!" Lovino yelled, suddenly red faced and panicked. He looked away. He wasn't staring at Antonio, no way! "You have a stain on the side of your mouth idiot!" He lied so fervently that he believed it true. "Grow up and fucking wipe your face properly the next time you eat! Now clean up! Stop being a baby and tell me exactly where we're going and what we're doing here!"

Antonio took a moment to rub quizzically around his mouth with his hands before answering. "We need to get to the Plaza Mayor. I booked it, so they should be finished setting up by now."

Plaza Mayor? Lovino groaned. Just what he needed - more crowds. "I hate going to Plaza Mayor Antonio! It's goddamed crowded and full of fucking tourists! And what do you mean you booked it? Booked what?! You can't reserve a plaza!" Lovino yelled, confused. Was it possible to do that? Antonio never seemed bound by any rules.

The older boy only laughed in response. "It's November Principito. Most the tourists are at the beaches and further south where it's warm. Come on and see!" He dragged Lovino along and they half jogged to the famous plaza.

Once they left the entrance to the metro, the crowd had thinned out and he could see what Antonio meant. While center Madrid was still lively, it was a far cry from their journeys out here during spring. When they reached the Plaza, Antonio looked around before smiling triumphantly and led Lovino to a relatively cleared part of the square where a group of men were setting up some machine on a platform that looked like it could rise up to a good height. What was this?

Antonio went to greet one of the men by the black van and Lovino read the words written on its side:

’FC247 - Anytime, Anywhere'

What? The fuck was this?

"Hey Romano we're early!" Antonio called, interrupting Lovino from his thoughts. "But that's fine. I actually did that on purpose to see the look on your face when they turn it on."

Irritated again, Lovino answered. "Turn what on bastard?" Antonio only smiled and held what looked like a pair of ridiculously bright sneakers.

"Help me out and try these on would you? I noticed your feet have grown bigger since last summer.

Embarassed again, this time Lovino didn't bother to hide his flush. "Did you buy me shoes again bastardo? You don't have to!" Not to mention, these were bright yellow and ugly. He thought Antonio would know his tastes by now.

"Not yet." Antonio laughed. "We can't keep these, but we need them for tonight. See if they fit?"

They did, and once they were on his feet they didn't look so gaudy. In fact, despite the older architecture that surrounded them, the soft shoes seemed to fit in with the trendy lights and overall atmosphere of the evening. They read 'Nike Football' on their side, even though they lacked cleats. "Are we..." Lovino frowned, confused. "Going to play football here?" All the evidence seemed to point to it. "How?"

All he received in response was a wink, so there was no choice but to wait until something happened. In the meanwhile, Lovino explored his corner of the plaza, where people were observing the men raise the machine and its platform. They also looked anticipatory, smiling knowingly, in on some secret that Lovino did not know. Many raised cameras and phones, so he quickly ducked his head and turned away. If Antonio hadn't given him shoes, he would have been convinced that this was some stage setup and Antonio had decided to give an impromptu performance. Antonio had done that before with just his guitar and gained quite a following. But now, Lovino was nervous, there was just too much attention on him and he was not supposed to draw anyone's attention.

He ran up to Antonio and tried to use him to hide from the crowd. "Hey Antonio, it's still...crowded...and they're all looking at us. I don't like it."

It was only then that something seemed to dawn on Antonio because his face went from obliviously cheerful to nervous as well. That did nothing to make Lovino feel better.

"Don't worry Romano." Antonio reasoned. "You're one out of many faces here, and when everyone else arrives, no one's really going to pay attention to you alone. We're just going to have fun."

Lovino rubbed his face in frustration, how stupid could Antonio be?! "Who the hell else is coming?! I'm not exactly supposed to have friends!"

"That's not true Romano!" Antonio responded sternly. "No one can deny you the right to have friends, not even your Mama. And the deal was not that you couldn't have friends! It's simply that no one is allowed to know why you're here or where you live. I mean...let's face it, even I don't know why you're in Spain, but you know what?" Suddenly cheerful again, Antonio ambushed him with a surprise hug. "We're making the best of it! Now I get to show the Principito the best parts of my city! And I know he's impressed, even though he likes to pretend that he isn't."

"How many times do I need to tell you idiot! Stop treating me like I'm fucking two years old!! I'm almost ten!" Lovino squeaked, hoping no one was really paying attention to them. Come on, how long was Antonio going to do this? He suddenly had an unwelcome image in his mind of being a smooth adult, talking to a pretty bella, just to have Antonio swoop in from behind and toss him in the air like a baby. 'Oh God,' he thought. 'Please no...just...no.'

But Antonio ignored his protests, as usual and instead spoke seriously. "They won't notice you specifically Roma. Kids play all the time, people watch and they move on. Besides, it's too cold to stand still. It'll be alright. I won't let anyone harm you."

Lovino had a tough time believing Antonio. They were late in the season to be playing outside, even he knew that. But what did he know about the habits of Spanish kids? He decided to trust Antonio this time, but first, "Never again bastard." He muttered.

"What?"

"Don't try to surprise me ever again. I just...I don't like secrets okay? If you told me earlier you were taking me out to play, I'd have probably been okay, but this is like...like I didn't have a choice."

Antonio, ever stupid or brilliant Antonio, let that sink in. Sure, Lovino knew that there was no way the older boy could know that his mother did the same thing once, and that led to being locked up for years, but...Lovino hated feeling this out of control. It reminded him of things like how weak he still was, how vulnerable.

Still a little confused, but solemn, Antonio nodded and this time, gave a serious hug. "I'm sorry Romano. I promise I'll ask next time okay? You get to make the decisions, but" And Lovino could hear the smile in his tone now, "I get to try to convince you sometimes if I disagree."

Lovino didn't pull away, but he also couldn't smile back. "Never again. You've promised."

Before Antonio could respond, a loud voice cut through the moment and Antonio stiffened slightly.

"Damn Boludo! When I heard you've been babysitting a little brother I didn't believe it! I said... 'hey! there's no way that stone-hearted bastard has it in him!' But I guess even I can be wrong!"

Lovino broke the hug, embarrassed, and turned to observe the newcomers suspiciously. The speaker with the odd Spanish was a blonde haired, green-eyed boy with a smug grin that he immediately disliked, but not out of spite more like...competition. Behind the older blonde came a tall and skinny brown haired boy with serious dark eyes.

Without warning, the tall boy smacked the blonde on the back of the head. "Don't be such an asshole Martín!" He admonished in an exasperated tone before addressing Antonio in a somewhat suspicious tone. "Hello Antonio. It's been a while. In fact, this is a surprise. We haven't seen or heard from you in more than a year. What do you want?"  
Martín let out a low whistle. "You're telling me not to be an ass Manuel? I've been influencing you...clearly."

Behind them, Lovino observed a third, even younger boy who looked a lot like Martín. Blonde, also green-eyed but more solemn and wearing glasses. This younger boy was around the same age as Lovino himself. He immediately felt nervous, because he had never spent time with anyone his own age. To cover his fear, Lovino scowled at the other boy, but received nothing but an observant stare.

Before anything could be said, there was a commotion in the crowd as they 'oohed' and took flashing pictures. Curious, Lovino turned to look at what was causing the commotion. His jaw dropped.

There was a laser lit football field in front of them...a fucking laser lit football field! How awesome was that?!

The men were busy setting up small goal nets on both sides of the field. Much smaller than the real thing, which was the width Gilbert had insisted on practicing with over the summer. These would be easier to defend and harder to score into. But that was secondary, what really awed him was all the lights, how they reflected off his shoes, the faces of the smiling crowd, off the blonde hair of their new companions, and of course, the lights all around the city. He felt alive, and inside he felt the familiar thumping of his heart, the building adrenaline and anticipation. They were going to play. He looked at the newcomers again, this time casting a critical eye over them as competitors.

They eyed the laser pitch with equal hunger. Actually that was wrong, they seemed more intense, especially the other young boy, still unnamed. He was simply starving to play. Whatever calm and solemn demeanor he had when he arrived completely disappeared. Lovino fought the urge to take a step back, fought the instinct to be intimidated as he observed them more closely. They were outwardly relaxed, but their gazes not only observed the length of the laser pitch, but also drew out to gauge the crowd. Martín observed the lights, which made Lovino do the same, trying to figure out what the smug looking boy was doing. It dawned on him suddenly, ridiculous but understandable all at once - Martín was looking at the lights because he wanted to look good while he played, not just as a player, but also as a guy who was aware of his good looks and was proud of it.

Before he could think any more on what he observed, a very familiar and very unwelcome voice greeted them.

"'Alo my dear friends!" Francis latched himself on Antonio with a very familiar hug which was a little too...gropey. Lovino was torn between fleeing Francis' perverted looking interpretation of friendship or staying to protect Antonio, who was so stupid in this case that he could never protect himself. "It has been too long! Where is Romano? I haven't seen the little bambino for months!"

That did it. Stomping into Francis' sight and shaking his fist, Lovino yelled. "I'm not little you perverted French bastard!! Ack no! Don't come near me!!" But Francis oddly, just stared at him, smile turning into curious amazement. He released Antonio and took a step closer, just as Lovino took a step back. He'd managed to avoid letting Francis put his hands on him all summer and he was not about to break that streak now.

"Ah, sorry Romano. Of course you're not little anymore! But you will always be the Little Prince of our hearts. It's just...look at you! You've grown so much!" Francis smiled, and it looked genuine to Lovino, so he relaxed a little. It seemed that Francis truly was happy to see him.

"We're playing with two children?" Damnit, just when he had just cleared that up. Lovino observed the two newcomers who came with Francis, a boy and a girl. Both were dark skinned, the girl's face was long with elegant features, and her hair was neatly tied back in rows of thinly braided pleats. She smiled at him kindly, while the boy next to her was tall as well, and serious in appearance. He was the one who had just asked the question, with an accent almost similar to Francis'. Even though the question seemed asked out of concern, Lovino still felt offended.

The younger blonde boy spoke up, scoffing. "Well yes, you should be careful with the kid," he indicated Lovino with a proud toss of the head. "But I can hold my own."

What a cunt! Lovino tried to jump the fucking kid but Antonio took a firm hold of Lovino before anything else could happen. "Let me the fuck go!" He yelled at Antonio. And to the obnoxious kid, "And you! Who the fuck do you think you are?!"

The two older teenagers who came with the kid for the most part seemed amused, and only slightly worried. Fucking idiots all of them. Antonio meanwhile could see the trouble brewing.

"Martín!" He hissed loudly, struggling to hold back Lovino. "You said Sebastián was shy and bookish!"

The older blonde spread his hands helplessly with a look of defensiveness on his face. "And YOU didn't tell me we were going to play football! Communication Antonio! Communication is key! If you did, I'd have told you that he kinda goes through a personality change and get's really competitive when he plays!"

"Why ELSE would I call you?!"

"Oh damn I dunno? Maybe to hang out over some hot drinks? To chat? To catch up after so long? This may surprise you Antonio, but even we have lives outside of football!"

"ENOUGH!" The big boy who had arrived with Francis moved between the two bickering parties. "We can play football, that's not a problem!" He declared in French-accented English. "We just need to be careful not to injure the boys. This isn't like playing on a field, the ground here is hard and it is dark. There's no need to fight!"

Lovino disagreed, he had just been personally insulted - that was plenty of reason to fight. He would save it for the game, he'd thrash this smug bastard of a child for all it was worth. He tugged himself out of Antonio's grip and glared at Sebastián.

"And who are you?" Martín asked the lecturing boy with a dangerous smile while crossing his arms over his chest.

"My dear friends!" Francis flowed between them somehow, almost like water. "Let's start again shall we? We came to meet new people, share in the love of a common interest, and be merry! Clearly this was all a misunderstanding. Very common when sports are in play! Our egos do become just a little more sensitive, do they not? Martín, it has been too long, I do love this hairstyle, it suits you, and you are as stylish as ever. I personally, cannot wait to see how you play now. Since you asked, these are my dear classmates and friends. Our slightly stern man here is Patrick Samba, from Cameroon, and the beautiful lady here is Mireille Drogba, of the Ivory Coast."

Sebastián's mouth dropped in awe. "Drogba?! Ivory Coast?! Are you related to...Didier Drogba? He's...he's one of my heroes!"

Mireille laughed warmly and charmed, coming over to shake Sebastián's hand. "Oh no! Drogba is a common surname in my country. But we already have something in common little one, he's one of my heroes as well."

Lovino looked up at Antonio in confusion and desperate nerves. Who was this Didier Drogba? Where on earth were Cameroon and the Ivory Coast? He was hating Antonio's surprise more and more with each passing moment. There was just too much - too many people, too many risks for discovery and the stress of having to hide how little he knew about the world.

Antonio it seemed, was finally realizing how much of a bad idea this was. He jumped in to save Lovino from having to talk. "Hey, Patrick, Mireille! Happy you could all make it. This is Martín Hernandez, and Manuel Gonzales. We used to hang out when I was still in the system. Manuel and I were in the same year, he's from Chile. Martín was a year under us, from Argentina, and the youngest is his cousin Sebastián Artigas from Uruguay. In fact...Sebastián, you came just last year, after I left. Hello! Nice to meet you!"

As Antonio greeted Sebastián with a warm smile and the customary kisses on each cheek, Lovino could not help the hopeless, jealous rage that sprung up inside of him. What the fuck was this 'system' business they were talking about? And why was this affecting him so strongly? Antonio had plenty of friends of course, he was a social and popular guy, but none of those friends were children. Also, Lovino was the one who received the most attention, whether he personally welcomed it or not. This other stupid kid had already challenged him on the pitch, charmed the bella first, was apparently bookish so he'd probably happily sit in a goddamned room and read books with fucker Antonio all day, so of course now he was getting Antonio's undivided attention. Well fuck them all, and Antonio too. Lovino turned and started running before he could feel worse. He was going to wipe the floor with Sebastián, at least ten times, and then everyone would forget how much he didn't know.

"Are we fucking going to play now or what?!" He yelled, and impatiently waited for the rest to follow. Patrick and Mireille looked taken aback and offended, but Lovino didn't care at the moment. The others conferred briefly, dividing the teams and in the end it looked like Lovino was on the same team as that bastard Antonio, and Manuel as a goalie with Mireille as a fellow attacker. Francis, Martín, Sebastián and Patrick would make up the other team and they briefly came together to confer while Antonio walked over, reaching out a hand, looking worried.

Lovino swatted the hand away, hard. "Fuck off Bastard!" He snarled.

"Wha...Romano! Why are you so...?"

"Stay the fuck out of my way! Why aren't you playing with your friends? With your new favorite kid?"

Antonio looked genuinely confused, "But Romano...I am playing with my favorite kid. Are you still angry with me? Look I'm really sorry that I brought you out here without telling you, and that I've brought you to a place where you feel so...uncomfortable. I feel really bad Romano, I really do! Do you want me to take you home?"

"I'm not going home until I wipe the floor with that kid's face!" Romano snarled.

Antonio now looked taken aback, and his expression had a cast of annoyance to it as well. He took Lovino's arm into a firm grip and pulled him closer. "Roma, I'm sorry and I mean it, but this won't be the first or last time in your life that someone's going to be a bit of an ass to you, it gets much worse you know. Believe me, you can't just lose it every time like this. You'll regret it. Trust me. Now why don't we just try to play a good game of ball and have some fun okay?"

Lovino pulled himself out of the older boy's grip and ran to the center of the field, where he fumed as he waited for his opponent...who looked like he was having a similar conversation with his older cousin and Chilean friend. Finally pushing his cousin away, Sebastián stomped over to meet Lovino in the center of the laser lit field. Lovino consciously ignored the obviously disapproving French nattering going on around them, as well as the exasperated but resigned looks of the native Spanish speaking party. All that mattered was teaching this kid from Uruguay a lesson about respect. They stood there glaring at each other until finally, they realized that the game was in play - the damned teenagers decided to ignore the kids standing in the middle of the field for kickoff and played around them instead.

"WHAT THE FUCK?!" Lovino screamed in protest, but everyone ignored him, including Sebastián, who tore after the ball. Shaking his head, Lovino tried to focus and give support to Mireille, who was up against Sebastián, Patrick and Martín all at once, but she was ignoring him, instead intent on Antonio, whose face was showing unnatural determination - where did that come from?

Martín stole the ball easily, weaving around Mireille, and Lovino as if they were still statues, but Antonio blocked his way. Instead, Martín he kicked a powerful attempt at goal, which Manuel easily caught. Manuel smirked at his friend, then he waited for Mireille and Lovino to run back out, then tossed the ball to Antonio instead.

Martín and Sebastián ran up, harrying Antonio, but he kicked the ball back to Manuel to frustrate their opponents. However, Lovino had enough of being ignored as well. When he saw Mireille running up and Manuel preparing to kick the ball to her, Lovino sprinted instead, jumped, caught the ball on his chest, landed on his feet and started dribbling as fast as he could down the short field, where Patrick defended and Francis looked just too relaxed at goal. Lovino suddenly realized he was grinning, this was just too easy.

Until of course, it wasn't, because Sebastián ran up from behind him and stole the ball before he could even blink.

"The fuck?" Lovino muttered to himself. And ran back, determined not to lose (the fact that no one had scored yet hardly mattered to him), and Sebastián instead back-heeled the ball over to his cousin who gently side-swept the ball into a corner of the small net that Manuel somehow managed to leave open.

There were some cheers from the crowd and disjointed clapping but now Lovino was livid. "It's a goddamned net that's smaller than I am and you can't even defend that?!" He yelled. For his part, Manuel had the grace to blush, frustrated at himself, but he was ignoring Lovino. It was Martín instead who ran up in front of Lovino, hands on his hips with an angry glare.

"Lay off kid. You're pushing my patience as is."

Antonio ran up next to them. "No, you back off." He threatened, before switching back to a more pleasant tone and expression. "Can't we just play and enjoy a game? This ought to be a break for you guys, trust me it's good for the soul to just enjoy the game rather than...treat it as a fight. Also, since this is just for fun, how about we try to include our French-speaking friends a little? Francis looks way too comfortable over there."

As Martín looked over at a somewhat annoyed looking Mireille, Patrick, and a very relaxed Francis who was posing over the short goal net like this was some photoshoot, he had the grace to look slightly sheepish. With a firm nod, he turned back to speak to Manuel.

Suddenly, the rage that Lovino had been feeling stopped hitting him quite so hard in his head. He was still angry, and his adrenaline was still making him tremble in the fingertips, but now it felt like time slowed down and he focused his mind instead. Antonio was speaking to him but he was ignoring him, Manuel and Martín were having some kind of intense conversation, heads together, while Sebastián looked on at them, worried. Mireille and Patrick were conversing in French, and Francis really was posing for photographs because there were some crazy people in the crowd taking pictures of him. He turned back to observe the three South Americans and something clicked. These guys were not going to treat this game like friendly excuse to meet up like the crowd over the summer. It was almost personal with them. With echoes in his mind about native iron-men South Americans playing an impossible Meso-American ball-game he decided that maybe racing around head first into a game wouldn't work for him the way it had before. Not against opponents who were clearly stronger and better than him. Lovino swallowed the bitter taste in his mouth and decided he needed more time to think.

When they started playing again, Lovino simply ran and observed instead. When the ball came his way, he would dribble it for a while, but pass to Mireille before things got too heated. Eventually it seemed that the opposing side was focusing more on her than Lovino.

It was a much more even game now, except that Sebastián was still behaving like this was a life or death competition. However, it seemed that between Martín playing less intensely and everyone else having adjusted to the speed and style of the two blondes, there was more 'fun' to be had. Not for Lovino though, he was studying his opponent, and he did not need a sprint to score off Francis to prove it.

Patrick was a fast runner and physically strong player, his kicks were intimidating with their power, which was probably the real reason why he was so concerned about the two boys. Mireille was agile and surprised everyone with her excellent long distance aim. She could make attempts at goal on her own side of the field if she so wished, and because Francis was not a goalkeeper by anyone's imagination, she scored. Even after he reluctantly started to take the game somewhat seriously and ignore his new fans, the damage was already done - she had scored 3 points.

As for Manuel, he started defending his little net with frightening intensity. Lovino felt that Gilbert was much better, but it was difficult to judge after a short time. Manuel certainly had the harder job than Francis, having to defend a goal against Martín, and actually was putting in the effort. There was no use denying the fact that Martín was the best of them all, and he was the one who was controlling the pace and difficulty of the game.

What surprised Lovino the most however, was not even his new rival. It was Antonio. The stupid, carefree defender who would often let a ball fly by over the past summer if he was distracted by a damned butterfly, was now almost a freakishly focused...octopus? He used his long limbs and height to his best advantage, easily turning and twisting with any attackers who got too close to the goal. There was always a very present frown on his face that Lovino decided he didn't like, because Antonio should never have to frown so much, not when he was doing well at something.

As for Sebastián? He was fast and ruthless, not hesitating at getting underfoot to force the bigger kids to stop their own play out of fear of hurting him, while he desperately tried to score. Lovino decided to press, seeing what would happen once Sebastián remembered who he was supposed to be fighting against. He ran up, shadowing his prey, and when Antonio ran over to defend, Sebastián lifted his leg over the ball to tap it with his back heel as usual, over to his cousin. This time though, it was already too late because Lovino had already escaped with the ball, kicking it over to Mireille, who was hindered by Patrick. She side kicked back to Lovino, who in a few short steps was behind the big defender and shot the ball right in between Francis' legs, before he had a chance to move. Lovino smiled to himself, floor wipe one.

But now that his rival remembered, him, it was harder. Now, they had a better idea of each others' skills, and were less careless. Never-the-less, right at the 19th minute, before futsal half-time, Sebastián managed to score in the upper corner of the net with an excellent cross, putting the score at 4-3. Thanks to Mireille's long-range shots, Francis' carelessness, Martín's chivalry and Manuel's strong goalkeeping, Lovino's team was actually winning. He was not entirely satisfied with that. While he was excited, he was also scared.

This so-called innocent match had already been more intense than anything he had ever played, and they had Antonio's friends to thank for that. Francis, Patrick and Mireille would not have been out of place in the summer group (Patrick and Mireille would have given Mary a challenge), but Martín was in a league all on his own - he made everything look so effortless. Martín's body was amazingly fluid and precise, while it was clear that his mind maintained an incredible awareness of the ball, the players, field, and overall game. Worse, it was not even clear how much Martín was holding back with them out of politeness, but Lovino imagined he must be bored. Maybe Arthur could have run head to head with the Argentine, or maybe not. It was impossible to know because he knew that Arthur held back as well when he had seen him play. It was telling and frustrating as well to Lovino that Antonio was not too bad himself. After a whole summer of playing like an average idiot who kicked around for fun, and telling Lovino that he was good enough to aim to play for Italy, it turned out that the Spaniard simply never took him seriously enough to play so intensely against him. The best he had ever seen Antonio play was that first day he humiliated the older boy, but that was nothing compared to what he was seeing today.

"Hey Roma..." Speak of the devil.

Lovino turned away brusquely. "I still don't wanna talk to you." He muttered, but again there was no heat to it. Now that they had stopped running, he could feel the adrenaline starting to leave and with it his strength. He had lost the endurance he gained over the summer, and despite this smaller laser court, the play was no less intense.

"But you still have to drink water, whether you talk to me or not." Antonio countered reasonably with a smile. Well, the air was dryer now that it was winter. Lovino grabbed the water bottle and drank greedily. Wiping his mouth with his arm, he raised an eyebrow at Antonio.

"What the fuck are you on today?" Lovino demanded in frustration. "You used to let balls through for fucking butterflies. You've been telling me all summer how good I am but you've been joking around the whole time!"

"What? No! You are good! Roma, don't get discouraged by those three." He looked like he wanted to say more but stopped. That little act was more damaging than anything else he had done that day, so Lovino went back to the laser lit field and looked out at the crowd, coming and going, old and young.

Some looked wealthy, others looked careless enough to freely offer their wallets, and some looked like they did not even have a place to shelter them on a winter's night, but all had decided to pause their lives to watch a couple of kids play football. It was not the players, Lovino decided, after all, the crowd had gathered without knowing who any of them were. It was the game itself that drew everyone in, and any fame each of them managed to earn was secondary unless they were exceptional. He thought back to what Antonio had taught him about the old Meso-American ball game, and decided that it wasn't even about the impossibility of a heavy stone ball making it through a tiny hoop. It was about...pawning competitiveness onto someone else. Someone out there was rooting for his team to win so that they could feel a little victory in their life without having to do the hard work themselves. In fact, from the eyes that followed him, some of them were even rooting for him. Others out there were rooting for Sebastián, probably because of the simple duality that two children facing off against each other brought. And maybe it was something as simple as the fact that one was fair haired and fair skinned, while the other was tanned and darker. There was something else important that ought to follow that realization but he could not think of it.

"What are you thinking about so seriously there little one?"

Lovino turned around quickly and backed away, but Francis was oddly, kind enough to keep out of touching distance for a change. He was content to simply observe Lovino so closely that it still hardly seemed to feel different.

"Stop staring at me like that it's creepy!"

Francis only chuckled and shrugged. Where Antonio was oblivious to Lovino's discomfort until it was obvious, Francis simply brushed it off, as if Lovino would eventually realize that the Frenchman was right all along. "Well Romano, I haven't seen you for a few months. I'm absorbing how much you've grown and what's changed. Antonio has certainly changed. As for you, I suppose I'm struck by how much you remind me of my rather adorable little cousin. He's been through so much, and there's so much going on in that cute little head of his, but he won't share it. No, he hides it behind a sweet smile. It's almost the same with you I think, except you hide behind a scowl. Ah well, a smile, a scowl, what is the difference between these masks at the end of the day? Those thoughts will boil up sooner or later, until you children understand that there are always friends around you who are willing to listen. In fact, I find sometimes that the world would be a much happier place without secrets, don't you?"

Lovino stared at Francis in shock for a moment, before running back to the game. There was still a second half to go, and surely Francis was just being a strange philosopher as usual. He refused to believe that Antonio would have told Francis anything. Not after all his promises and giving up so much of his time. Besides, if Francis knew, there would be no way life would be so quiet. The French boy was not exactly a star player when it came to football, but he and Veronique were the ones who would make ideas into reality and more. They were the ones who had organized the games over the summer, who had apparently called everyone to make sure they remembered to bring their share of the goods. No, if Francis knew about anything, he would have done something by now...whatever that was. Lovino breathed a sigh of relief.

Two green eyes behind a glare caught on glasses suddenly appeared before him. "Don't look so smug. On a normal day none of you would have a chance." Sebastián sneered.

Lovino scowled right back. "What the fuck is your problem bastard? I guess your parents took one look at you after you were born and wished you were him instead." He snarled, tossing his head in Martín's direction. "That's why you keep running in his shadow."

When Sebastián's face immediately went from smug to sad, and then broken for just a second before turning to rage, Lovino could not help but smile. He had guessed right on those buttons. Then, Sebastián let out a loud cry and jumped at him. Terrified, Lovino put his arms up just as the ground knocked the breath out of his lungs. The blonde boy rained punches down on his face, chest and shoulders and it hurt but Lovino reached through the blows, grabbed Sebastián's face and managed to push the other boy off. Lovino was so angry now, and suddenly all the trapped frustration he had been holding in for months came to the fore and he attacked Sebastián with equal fury. How dare this kid take away the one thing he was good at in his life by being better? How dare this kid not appreciate how easy his life was compared to his? He could walk outside, play a game and even had a fucking family to call his own. He knew where the other countries in the world were and never had to feel stupid or inadequate. He-

"ROMANO STOP!" Lovino was forcefully yanked backwards, Antonio's enraged yell still ringing in his ears.

"He started it!" Lovino yelled back, flailing at Sebastián. "That fucking cunt started it!"

Sebastián was being held by his cousin, who was looking at him with exasperation. "How many times have I told you Sebastián?" He scolded. "One more fight, I swear to God! One more fight and you are on the next flight back to Montevideo, I don't have time for this! Do you think this is any way to represent your home? Or our family?!"

"Like you have the right to talk!" Sebastián screeched back. The cousins started fighting verbally in earnest, and Antonio forcefully took Lovino to the side.

From the corner of his eyes he could see the disappointed crowd moving off, disappearing, and the men turning the lasers off and dismantling the field. The game was over. Lovino glared at Antonio. "He started it. You know he did. You were there in the beginning when he started acting like a smug bastard for no reason, he started it again just now and he was the one to fucking attack me first!"

But Antonio was having none of it. "He was posturing in the beginning Romano. That's what players do before a game to try to intimidate their opponents. He was also posturing at half time. Of course he shouldn't have done it because it's rude, and he especially shouldn't have done it because this was supposed to be a fun game; but it happens. And he shouldn't have hit you. You had a right to defend yourself...but Romano...I know he only attacked after you said something to him. What did you say?"

Lovino stared back at Antonio in shock. After all that, Antonio was going to say that this was his fault?! A sharp pain started to sear in his chest at this betrayal, and to his horror, he knew, the beginning of tears. "You know what bastard? Fuck you! You take me here against my will. You make me play with a bunch of strangers I don't know, you embarrass the hell out of me and now you're taking his side. Go to his side then, I'm going home, I know the way! Don't bother following me or coming back!"

He turned to run as fast as he could, using his smaller size to his advantage, ducking around people in the milling crowd, while Antonio had to try his best not to hit anyone. At least that's what he hoped. The last thing he wanted was for all those stupid teenagers to see him cry, and especially not that other kid, oh God not when he was being compared to someone else and was obviously losing. Dear God, was this really going to be what the rest of his life would look like?

"Romano!...." Antonio's voice called desperately into the crowd, and Lovino realized that if he was going to be successful, he would have to go back to those days when he first escaped his home...and pretend to not be in a hurry. He ducked a sharp left around a corner, and walked into the first shop as nonchalantly as he could. It was only when he noticed other people peeling their jackets off that he realized he was actually cold, sweaty and Antonio had his jacket and dry set of clothes. He also had tears which left cold tracks down his cheeks.

"Fuck." He snarled to himself, hastily wiping his cheeks and drawing attention from nearby shoppers. He realized that he had found some kind of tourist shop- full of useless keychains, stuffed toys and ridiculous t-shirts. Still, they did have sweaters, maybe he could pinch one? As he stared at all the plainly ugly sweatshirts with 'Madrid' happily printed in bold across them, Lovino realized that he could never wear anything so tacky. In fact, he could only think of one person who could - Antonio, who was so proud of his city, he would even wear ugly clothes for it if it came down to it. Antonio, who once got so worried about Lovino that he spent two days stopping at every bus stop and physically checking with every person he saw just to find out where one kid could have disappeared to in a city as large as Madrid.

Finally, Lovino sighed and found a comfortable corner to lean against. Antonio would find him eventually, hopefully sooner rather than later, or he would call his mother and that would make an even worse mess. It was pathetic, really, how much he relied on Antonio. Besides, it was not as if he wasn't trying to be a better kid. He was trying to learn, it was just a lot to cover. Sure, maybe that was his fault for ignoring all the work his mother gave him before but still. Football used to be the only thing he was good at, it was the only reason why Antonio had looked at him twice, but even that was not true anymore.

A soft voice that Lovino didn't recognize interrupted his thoughts. "There you are...I'm sorry. Really." Confused, Lovino looked up to see...

"YOU!"

Despite Lovino's loud bark, he found himself backing up a few steps, wary of another attack. But where before, Sebastián had looked cocky, now the act had been stripped away. He seemed a much gentler boy, a little refined even, and genuinely sad. Standing close behind him was not his cousin, but Manuel, who was casting a critical eye over them both.

"I uh..." Sebastián struggled to continue. "I get annoyed at my cousin sometimes too, and I just run off from him. He does it to me as well, he'll just ignore me for days, especially after I start a fight. I really am sorry. It's just that when it comes to sports, it's kind of the thing I'm the best at, and I get a little crazy over it because I think that if I don't win...everyone will...forget me."

Manuel turned sharply to Sebastián, surprised. He gave a low whistle. "My God, Sebastián. That won't happen! How could you possibly think that? And your cousin cares. He's got a funny way of showing it but he does. All of us, your family. Me as well. Look, I know it seems like a big deal now, but at the end of the day, this is just a game. You're going to have a life beyond it. We all will. Don't let those coaches and other kids get to you."

But Sebastián looked disbelieving.

"Look," Manuel continued. "I know its hard because Martín seems to grab attention wherever he goes, and it feels like you're being compared to him. But even Martín has his own insecurities okay?"

Sebastián shrugged, but he held a hand out to Lovino. "Look, I understand if you're mad, but can we start over? I never meant to actually hit you, you just hit the right buttons."

Lovino was still scowling, but there was a distant corner of his heart that decided it could relate a little to this boy. With an entire family and more friends to look after him though, he didn't realize how lucky he was. But at least Antonio was not consciously a flashy attention seeker, and at least at the end of it, Lovino finally realized that even if he sucked at football, at least he’d have his Mama at the end of it. Without a word, he took Sebastián's hand for a quick shake, then retreated and crossed his arms.

"Well," Manuel sighed. "That's settled. I'm calling Antonio. You can't go out there like this. I don't know what Antonio was thinking, playing in this weather, but I guess we were all crazy enough to go along with it."

Stepping away with his phone, Manuel left the two boys alone.

"So..." Sebastián started. "Are you Antonio's little brother?"

"None of your business."

"Okay...are you from Madrid?"

"No! I'm Italian!"

Sebastián's face lit up. "Really? That's cool. I have relatives in Naples. My great-grandpa was Italian. Same side of the family as Martín. Did you know that..."

And on and on, Sebastián chatted about his Italian heritage, while Lovino listened, strangely placated, and oddly happy to have even this possibility of a distant Italian friend. Some things sounded familiar, even though it was dated. Oddly, despite the earlier fight, Lovino wondered if they could actually get along. Maybe if he could get Sebastián to feel guilty enough about being an asshole, he could find a way to let the boy do his homework for him, and they could learn some football from each other.

"Romano! There you are!" Antonio rushed into the store, desperately holding Lovino's jacket. Lovino decided that he was now too damn tired to stay mad at Antonio. He was still out of breath from the game and running away anyway. Being angry took a lot of energy.

Antonio looked down a little sad and resigned before saying. "Principito, we need to have a talk." Lovino just shrugged in response. Antonio looked at the two boys and smiled slightly. "Well the good thing is that neither of you are particularly accurate when it comes to throwing punches."

"Small blessings indeed." Martín muttered, annoyed. He had showed up behind Antonio. "Well, maybe we can try this again once this has all blown over. But NOT a game. Everyone had also be better behaved. We can warm up cozy over maté or something. Antonio,your French buddies have gone home. If you're going to invite us out again, try to do it before another two years pass okay? For now, I think it's time to take Sebastián home."

Antonio nodded distractedly, his attention wholly absorbed by an oddly quiet Lovino. Once the three left and Lovino wore his jacket, Antonio asked. "Are you still mad at me?"

Lovino stared at a keychain, unresponsive.

"Hmm not talking to me I guess. That’s even worse than you yelling at me. I really screwed up today didn’t I? And I suppose I'm still overwhelming you just a bit? Ah...this is not the place to talk. Come on, the night is still young, and your Mama won't be home for a while yet. If it wasn't getting colder out, I'd take you to our field, but I think your home is the safer place to go. We can have a good talk before your Mama gets home okay? You can yell at me all you want, and tell me everything that's been bothering you again and again and repeat it too. Then we'll try to sort it out, and that way I guess I can stop doing stuff that I think is going to solve stuff that I don't really understand...that just makes things worse, and makes you uncomfortable and mad. Please help me fix this Tomatito?"

Then Antonio patiently waited for him with a calm and patient smile, and Lovino swallowed hard because he could not believe he had just yelled at this ever-waiting friend to leave and never come back. Finally relaxing his scowl, he nodded and followed Antonio home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That was such a difficult chapter to write, but here it is. Sorry for the delay, all of my projects went on hold for my original NanoWriMo one, but now that November is over, I'm back in fanfic business. 
> 
> Also, in the past I avoided using random Spanish words in the middle of a sentence mostly because it didn't make sense to me to have to do that if they're all supposed to be speaking Spanish. However, it did start to feel unnatural to keep translating out things like 'Princeling' and 'Little Tomato' when it's so much easier and more natural in Spanish - Principito and Tomatito respectively. From now on, I'm cheating like that. Do forgive me.
> 
> I also know that nation wise it doesn't make much sense for South Italy to be younger than Argentina, or for Mexico to be younger than Uruguay. More artistic flexibility. Heh.
> 
> Some things to note about this chapter:
> 
> 1\. Didier Drogba is a modern day football legend. Not only is he a fantastically skilled footballer, but he and the Ivory Coast's national team in 2005 played a very important role in ending their country's civil war (at the time, sadly, hostilities resumed in 2011). When I get upset at match fixing reports, unnecessary drama, human slavery over building the stadiums in Qatar and allegations of widespread corruption in FIFA, I rewatch this video of the Ivory Coast's team promoting national unity and asking for their country tol lay down arms and hold elections (with the knowledge that it actually worked...for a while). [Here is the video.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lf6kLSAM5sA) "We want to have fun! Stop firing your guns!"
> 
> 2\. Laser Football is totally a thing in Madrid...and only in Madrid. It's basically a very clever marketing gimmick by Nike. Basically you book the field from a phone app, a can drives out and sets up the machine to give you a free laser court. I'm exercising creative flexibility when I say that these guys can play in winter though.
> 
> 3\. A lot of what I wrote for Argentina, Chile and Uruguay was inspired by a book I've been reading - Golazo by Andreas Campomar. It's basically a book about the history of football in Latin America. Argentina was the first of the South American countries to establish professional football leagues, followed closely by Uruguay and Chile. Argentina and Chile have a close enough relationship that according to the book, where Argentina starts something, Chile follows soon after (but puts it’s own twist on it). Also yes, character wise, they're dating...look at them trying to be very incognito. Uruguay has an interesting history, having originally been a state in Argentina before it was annexed by the Empire of Brazil. After achieving independence, Uruguay has mostly distinguished itself through excellence in football and having extremely liberal laws. There was a period where it was kind of a Switzerland in South America, but sadly that did not last long. Also, the first FIFA world cup was hosted in Montevideo. Any mistakes in facts or depictions are mine.
> 
> 4\. With this chapter I wanted to introduce a little of the ugly side of football and competitiveness...hence the anger and the angst. Also however, the sheer marketing machines that drives the sport and individual players who manage to make it big. I think that the boys who go into football camp with the dream of becoming a star has to also be very much aware of his own worth as a potential celebrity. Those who manage to take the best advantage of that, do extremely well.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello and thanks for reading! 
> 
> 1\. This story is actually a prequel to the one that I originally intended to write first - 'The Beautiful Game' - which is a Spamano tale about the Vargas brothers in professional football, their relationships and the lead-up to the World Cup. Then it didn't make much sense without some backstory, which is what 'The Tomato Prince' provides. I started writing this because while I love watching the World Cup, I'm boycotting this year's Cup in Brazil (2014), as well as the next 2 in 2018 and 2022 to protest the massive violation of human rights occurring in Qatar to build the World Cup's infrastructure. So far more than 1,200 laborers have died due to poor working and living conditions, and the number increases every day. I'm also boycotting FIFA generally as I disagree with their rather ridiculous demands and suspected corruption in awarding hosting rights.  
> While I'm unable to watch the game and tournament that I love, I'm going to write about it instead. Thankfully, Hetalia lends itself quite well to international sporting competitions :D
> 
> 2\. There's not going to be much romance in this story. It's more a tale about a kid loving a game and remembering where he came from when he plays it. 
> 
> 3\. I was born in the States and attended American schools all my life, but was raised in the Commonwealth, so I'm going to refer to the sport as 'Football' through this story. If however, my other football terms ever get mixed up between American and the rest of the world, please forgive me and let me know about them :D.


End file.
